


damage to mend, hearts to break

by thebigartiste



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Heathers (1988), The Addams Family (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/F, He is gay & British, J.D is not canon, Lesbian, Lowkey Canon Divergence, Period-Typical Homophobia, References movie & musical, Slow Burn, Sophia’s Lydia Deetz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21725389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebigartiste/pseuds/thebigartiste
Summary: What happens when ex-best friends fall back into one another once again?
Relationships: Heather Chandler/Veronica Sawyer, Wednesday Addams/Lydia Deetz
Comments: 72
Kudos: 237





	1. all things beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh sorry there are so many tags, i just had to give context!
> 
> a few disclaimers before you read:  
> \- every student in this is either 17/18  
> \- i'm young and I'm not great at noticing spelling errors  
> _ this is a (semi) original storyline but takes quotes and scenes out from both the movie and musical  
> \- i'll most likely be constantly editing these chapters to correct errors etc, but i won't change anything too important

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are welcomed to the backward Thunderdome that is Westerburg highschool whilst also taking a few looks into the no-longer-existing friendship of Heather Chandler and Veronica Sawyer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter 1! Let me know what you think in the comment section after you've read it. constructive criticism is always helpful, but be respectful!

**1988**

Believe it or not, Veronica Sawyer and Heather Chandler had been inseparable best friends at one point in both of their lives. 

But not anymore, because friendships were a bitch, and so was society.

Social status at Westerburg became akin to the Feudal System.

The average looking, average working students scattered across the canteen, blending in with one another in an attempt to avoid any trouble were like the _peasants._ Although the logical, _moral_ parts of their brains were telling them that the powerful people in the hierarchy were evil, they still bowed down to them all like gods.

On the opposite end of the Feudal System sat the Queen, or Heather Chandler. She spat on those below her and wouldn’t allow anyone to oppose her, no matter how strong they were. However, the thing was, without the ‘peasants,’ it would be impossible for her to thrive as the Queen.

There was also a small middle ground; so small it almost didn’t exist. It consisted of the few people that actually _were_ ‘friends’ with the Queen, though they were basically just her most loyal servants; Heather Duke, the second most venomous snake at the school and Heather McNamara, one of the kinder higher-powers who appeared to be unable to think for herself. The three of them together were ‘the Heathers;’ the most deadly yet influential trio in the school. There were also the jocks that chased after the Heathers like moths to a light; Kurt Kelly, a sexist asshole who can never keep it in his pants, Ram Sweeney, a completely misogynistic airhead and their army of sweaty John Travolta wannabes.

Veronica Sawyer found herself comfortably in the group of ‘peasants,’ however she was part of a rebellion that wouldn’t cater to the higher power’s every need unless they felt like it.

Her closest friends were Lydia Deetz, a strange girl who had transferred to Westerburg only a few months prior. She had quite a hard shell, but when you managed to crack it open, you'd discover that she's one of the loveliest girls at Westerburg. Secondly, there was J.D, or Jason Dean, a closeted gay guy who had also just moved to Westerburg from England and Martha Dunstock, a sweet yet shy girl who unfortunately was the prime victim of intense bullying from the Heathers and jocks.

The four of them sat at the cafeteria table closest to the door every lunch period so they were able to make a quick run for it if the Heathers were to come near.

Today happened to be _that time_ of the week. It was the day the Heathers would do their infamous lunchtime poll. Everyone knew it was just some sickly act to butter up all the teachers whilst also managing to torment every single table. Two birds with one stone, might you call it.

Just as Lydia, J.D, Martha and Veronica were about to dash, they were swarmed by three brightly-colored blazer-clad girls with sickening grins.

“Hey, Lydia!” Heather C began, causing Lydia to almost choke on her milkshake, “Nice bangs, did you cut them yourself?” Lydia could only nod, for she knew exactly how ingenuine that compliment was, “Check this out; You win five million dollars from the Publisher’s Sweepstakes, and the same day that big Ed guy gives you the cheque, aliens land on earth and say to blow up the world in two days. What do you do?”

J.D knew that Lydia would fail to answer, so he cut in; “Easy! I’d buy a doomsday shelter.”

”Did I ask you, cocksucker?” Heather scowled.

“Mind your own business!” McNamara added.

 _“Shut up,_ Heather!”

“Sorry, Heather!”

“So Deetz, are you going to answer me or not?”

“I uh- Uhm… Maybe I’d give it to the homeless… those who really need it,” Lydia mumbled.

Veronica smiled gently at her friend’s response, proud that she was actually able to answer considering her usual struggle to speak to threatening people such as Heather Chandler, “You’re beautiful,” she said to the inky haired girl.

Heather’s eyes burned into Veronica as she said that, “Wipe the drool off your chin, dyke,” and with that, she moved on to the next table with Duke and McNamara not far behind.

Veronica was unsure why the strawberry blonde suddenly snapped like that, but she seemed unphased by the slur. She’d heard it time and time again, but it left her unbothered because it wasn’t true.

Though, part of her, deep down, flinched whenever she heard Heather utter those words. She had no clue as to why that was, so she tried to overlook it.

“Are you okay, V?” asked Martha, still shocked that none of the three Heathers made any judgment towards her whilst they were in close proximity to her.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied in a daze.

.

**1981**

_“I can’t believe we’re both 10 now! We’re like… double-double digits,” Veronica giggled, sticking her fork into her slice of Heather’s birthday cake, “Is that red velvet?”_

_“Mhm. I’ve decided that red is my most favorite color. My mom said that if I get a good mark on my math test next month then I can get my room painted red!” the strawberry blonde replied, sipping on her orange juice._

_“That’s so cool! I want my room painted a color. It’s just boring old white right now, like barf me out, I’m living like a Grandma!” they both burst into fits of laughter._

_It died down when Heather started choking on her juice slightly, so Veronica had to slam her hand into the former’s back a few times._

_“Are you okay?”_

_”Yeah,” she reached for the red scrunchie that Veronica had gifted her for her birthday, raising her arms up and tying her hair into a ponytail, “You should totally get a blue scrunchie so we are like opposites. My dad told me that red and blue are on the opposite end of this thing called ‘the light spectrum.’”_

_“I like blue a lot. I like how it isn’t too girly,” the brunette replied._

_“I don’t think there are girly colors or boyish colors, Roni. There are just colors. Boys can wear pink and girls can wear blue if they want!” Heather declared, staring into her drink the whole time._

_Veronica’s lips curled into a soft smile, “You’re beautiful.”_

_Heather’s face turned almost the color of her scrunchie and Veronica could've sworn she saw her bite her lip slightly, “Nope,” she shook her head, “I just don’t like stereotypes.”_

_“Well, if you don’t like them then neither do I!” the brunette exclaimed._

_Heather moved her gaze from her drink to her best friend, grinning before embracing her tightly._

_“Happy birthday, Heather,” Veronica whispered, her words slightly muffled due to her face’s position in Heather’s hair._

_They fell asleep like that, on Heather’s couch, Swallows and Amazons playing unobtrusively on the television in the background. At around 11 pm, Heather’s parents carried the girls through to Heather’s room, tucking them into her bed tenderly and flicking the light off as they both lightly began to snore._

.

**1988**

“Heather Chandler’s birthday is coming up. I heard she’s having a huge party with a bunch of college guys. You think any of ‘em would have eyes for me?” J.D grinned with a mouth full of sticky cafeteria coleslaw.

“As if. You’re so far back in the closet, you’re practically in Narnia,” Lydia joked and everyone at the table laughed, apart from Veronica, “Are you _sure_ you’re okay, V?”

“Yeah, totally, I just think the coleslaw was a little off today. I’m gonna walk to class early and get some air. I’ll see you guys after school?”

There were a few halfhearted ‘yeahs’ and ‘sures’ as Veronica grabbed her satchel and rushed out of the lunchroom. She dashed towards the bathroom, yanking her journal out her bag as she walked. She discreetly slipped into the first stall, sitting down on the toilet seat after locking the door.

 _“Dear Diary,”_ she scribbled into the two-dollar journal her mom bought her, _“I’m ~~conflicted~~ fucking stuck. Is the feeling at the bottom of my stomach anger or my menstrual cycle? Am I ovulating? Why does it feel like someone has poured gallons of ice-cold slushie into my brain? Maybe I’m depressed-”_ her writing was interrupted when she heard the sound of three pairs of heels entering the room. 

Veronica lifted her knees up to her chest, hugging them instinctively. She knew _exactly_ who the footsteps belonged to.

“Heather, why did you snap like that? It’s just _Sawyer._ What’s she gonna do, not let you borrow her geometry homework? _Kiss you?”_ Duke snorted.

“I can do what I want, she’s a _dyke._ I wouldn’t be surprised if she and Martha Dumptruck were secret lesbian lovers,” the girl in red smirked.

“Remember when you guys were best friends-” McNamara began.

“Shut _up,_ Heather!”

Veronica was still confused as to why it affected the blonde so much. It could be because it was nearing seven years since they stopped being friends, but in what universe would Heather fucking Chandler ever remember that?

That _fucking word_ rang in Veronica’s ears like a fire alarm.

_Dyke._

_Dyke._

_Dyke._

How could something so untrue hit her in all the places it hurt the most.

Unless it wasn’t as untrue as she thought it was.

The word rang louder and louder, submerging her in worry to the point that she couldn’t take it anymore. She kicked open the stall door with her blue Converse Chuck Taylors and stormed out.

“Heather!” she yelled to none of the Heathers in particular, and all three of the girls whipped around to stare at her, “Why can’t you just be friends? Why do you have to be such _mega-bitches?”_

She didn’t know how she managed to say it. Never in her life had she been so bold. She just wanted things to go back to how they were, like in elementary school when everyone got along. When no one gave a shit about one another’s differences. When she and Heather Chandler were best friends.

But that wasn’t real life. Real-life sucks losers dry, Heather Chandler once said whilst tormenting Martha. It wasn’t some fantasy world where everyone held hands and sang.

The girl in yellow looked surprised at Veronica’s burst of anger, the girl in green looked disgusted and the girl in red looked…

_Sad?_

However, her pitiful expression only lasted a moment before it twisted into a smirk.

“You’re a nobody, Veronica. You just sit and feed Martha Dumptruck with your lesbo fat kink whilst Deetz talks to ghosts and that weird English Darth Vader wannabe drools all over gay magazines, and you have the nerve to talk to us like _that?”_ Duke seethed, practically stomping her little feet on the bathroom ground, “You’re dead, Sawyer.”

Veronica felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She thought that this was the end. Duke was probably about to strangle her to death with her own hair. She just awaited the pounce, but it didn’t come.

Instead, once again, Heather Chandler told Duke to shut up before taking a step forward.

_Was this it?_

She felt Heather’s emerald green gaze scan her body from her long, trembling legs to her fear-stricken eyes.

“You’re nothing right now. You’re a frigid little girl-scout cookie dyke,” she said without a care for Veronica’s feelings, “But for a greasy little nobody, you _do_ have good bone structure,” she added, lifting her arm up and cupping Heather’s jaw roughly.

“And a symmetrical face!” McNamara chimed in, “If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull, I’d have matching halves. That’s very important.”

The other Heathers all nodded with agreement.

“Of course, we need to straighten you out, get you with a guy or two. Some good dick will fix you, and you could stand to lose a few pounds,” Duke suggested, tugging on Veronica’s blue jacket.

“Don’t cream your panties, but this could be something. Maybe some makeup would do the trick - Heather, grab your makeup brushes. Let’s make her _beautiful.”_

.

**1981**

_Heather Chandler was sitting alone at recess. Veronica had developed a nasty fever the morning after her birthday party, so she was staying home that day, and Heather’s other best friend, Heather McNamara, was on vacation in Hawaii with her family, so the strawberry blonde was left by herself._

_Her green eyes scanned the playground and met dark brown ones across the soccer pitch._

_It was the new girl, Heather Duke._

_She just had transferred to Ohio from California, but rumour had it, she was Russian. Heather was pretty sure some random boy made that up, however. She was really pretty. Too pretty to be sitting by herself with a small frown on her face._

_Heather stood up, brushed her skirt down and skipped over to the girl, admiring her long, auburn hair from afar._

_“Hey!” she beamed._

_”Hello?” Duke returned nervously._

_“I’m Heather.”_

_“Me too!”_

_“I’ll have to call you by your second name then. Your name is now Duke.”_

_“That’s fine by me.”_

_"You’re my best friend now, Duke.”_

_“Nice!” Duke smiled, “Does that mean I’m friends with your other friend?”_

_“Veronica? Yeah, sure! But she’s my bestest friend,” Heather said sternly._

_“What’s the difference?” Duke questioned._

_“Best friends hang out at school and sometimes have sleepovers, but bestest friends cuddle and kiss each other’s cheeks and sleep in the same bed and dance to Olivia Newton-John together,” the blonde explained._

_“Really? Cause my big brother told me that’s what dykes do.”_

_“Dykes?”_

_“Girls who date other girls. They’re soooo gross! They’re worse than creepy old men.”_

_“Ew, that’s so gross. I’m not a dyke!”_

_“But your friend Veronica is! Why else would she do all that stuff with you?”_

_“You’re right. She’s a dyke. I’ll tell her tomorrow when she’s back that we absolutely cannot hang out anymore.”_

_So when Veronica returned the next day, still recovering from her fever, she was shocked to find her best friend with an angered look across her face. The strawberry blonde announced that they could no longer be friends because Veronica was ‘gross’ and ‘a freak’ and other words that the brunette had never heard of before. Veronica broke down into tears and insisted that the school nurse call her mom to take her home again._

_She and the Heathers were never friends again._

Until now... _Maybe?_


	2. rule of threes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica tells Lydia about what happened in the bathroom, Lydia tells Veronica one of her deepest secrets and the Heathers go overboard with Veronica's makeover before revealing her to the halls of Westerburg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know if i said this in last chapter’s note but i am maybe the worst person for frequent updates! i do try and update as much as i can but i am a procrastination queen. ;)
> 
> now that i’m on winter vacation, i’m unsure if updates will be more prominent or less, we'll just have to see lol.
> 
> anyways, enjoy! 
> 
> (p.s.a; i’m shit at chapter naming.)

Veronica practically floated home, swaying as she walked through the door. She collapsed down on her bed and phoned Lydia, asking her to come round so she could share the news of her extremely eventful day.

The brunette wasn’t expecting the reaction she received.

“You _what?_ I call bullshit! You must think I was born yesterday,” Lydia almost died on the spot. In her mind, there was no way her best friend, an outcast, Veronica Sawyer, had been invited to join the Heathers at lunch, “Is this a prank? You know it’s bad luck to make an April Fools prank in September…”

“I swear on your dead mom, I’ll show you!” Veronica reached into her bag as Lydia winced at the insensitive mention of her mother. The brunette pulled out an expensive-looking royal blue blazer from her satchel, pushing it into her friend’s chest, “Check the label.”

Lydia took the blazer into her hands skeptically, eyeing Veronica while she did so. She found the label and flipped it upwards so she was able to see the name neatly written on it in glittery red pen.

_Heather C._

“This is crazy! Are you crazy?” Lydia could hardly form a coherent sentence, “Why on _Earth_ would you willingly surround yourself with people who constantly make fun of you… Who constantly make fun of _us?”_

“First of all, this was hardly willingly! I snapped at them and they reacted by prodding me and telling me I was pretty. Yeah, you heard me right - Heather Chandler called _me_ beautiful,” Veronica almost didn’t believe the final sentence was true, even though she witnessed it first hand.

“That’s so strange… she really called you beautiful after calling you a dyke for calling me _exactly_ that at lunch? She’s such a jealous bitch-” Lydia kept talking, but Veronica had already zoned out.

“-I’m sorry, did you say _jealous?”_ the brunette raised an eyebrow, gawking at her friend as if she had just told her pigs fly.

“Yeah, duh. She must’ve snapped at you at lunch because she was jealous of you calling me beautiful. I think she misses being your friend.”

“I don’t remember telling you that we were best friends…”

“Martha told me,” Lydia shrugged, “What she did to you was awful, but you were 10 and no one knew any better. What was broken can be mended. Plus, that was ‘81. Things are better now. I mean hell, not that much better, but at least it’s slightly better.”

Veronica sighed with a sad smile plastered across her lips before resting her head on her friend’s slender shoulder. Lydia lifted her hand up hesitantly, stroking the brunette’s frizzy hair gently. The inky haired girl wasn't exactly a human-contact kind of person, so she was unsure how to react.

“When I was about 14, back in New York, I wrote in my journal that I had a crush on my teacher. Her name was Miss Maitland and she was just the softest lady I had ever known. She had pretty blonde hair and she never stopped smiling. I wished I could smile as much as she did. When my mom died, she helped me get my life back on track. When we moved to Connecticut the next year, I was super sad to leave her, so I wrote a love poem about her in my journal,” Veronica could hear Lydia’s voice get shaky as she continued, “My step-mom found it when we were unpacking boxes in the new home. Her and my dad called me downstairs to talk to me about it. At first, they were super pissed off, but then they grew to accept me for who I was, and they love me just the same now.”

Veronica pulled away from Lydia’s embrace and cupped the side of her pale face, wiping tears the latter’s away with her thumb.

“You came out to me,” the brunette grinned.

“I did?” Lydia’s eyes widened as she realized what she had done, “Shit, I-“

“I’m so proud of you.”

The hugged once again.

Lydia pulled away and bit her lip, deep with thought.

“Listen, I’ll allow you to hang out with the Heathers - sit with them, party with them, whatever you want - under these conditions,” she began, “Make sure they don’t come near our table ever again.”

“For sure.”

“Still have a movie night with Martha, J.D and I every Sunday.”

“Obviously! I love movie night.”

“And you still have to come to my birthday party in two weeks.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Lydia pulled her close and hugged her tight, “Thanks, Veronica. You have such a good heart. And told tell anyone about the gay thing. I'm not ready just yet. You're the only person I've told other than my dad, my step-mom and my dead mom.”

”I won't. I promise.”

.

“Mara, get the curling iron,” Chandler snapped her fingers, the blonde instantly obeying her order.

Thank god Veronica’s parents left for work early, or else they would’ve been greeted by three very colorful girls with sinister smiles at the front door that morning.

The Heather’s arrived at Veronica’s door unannounced at 6:30 am, declaring that they were there for her makeover.

“Do you guys realize how damn early it is?” Veronica groaned, rubbing her eyes. She was still in her pajamas when she opened the door, much to her own embarrassment.

“Do you want to be in the group or not? Come on! We’ve got lots of work to do…” Heather exclaimed, holding back a small smirk at the sight of the exhausted brunette standing nervously by the door frame in a little black babydoll, blue robe, and matching slippers. 

The strawberry blonde barged through the door, followed by Duke and McNamara. She set up all her equipment across the kitchen counter, consisting of hair curlers, lash curlers, two wash bags overflowing with expensive makeup products and a pair of black stilettos which looked far too high to wear all day at school.

Heather took Veronica off guard when she grabbed her waist and hoisted her up onto the kitchen counter.

“What are you doing?” the brunette swallowed back the substantial lump developing in her throat.

“Sitting you up so we can do your makeup, duh?” she sneered before ushering Duke and McNamara over to her. They all began with the transformation.

Veronica wasn't a classically feminine person, whatever that even meant. She usually wore pants to school with an ugly button-up that she presumably stole from her father’s closet. Her hair would be styled in a plain low ponytail which she would occasionally throw over her shoulder if she was feeling _risqué._ Makeup? It had seldom even crossed her mind.

That was all changing now, that was for sure.

If Veronica were to weigh herself in that moment, she knew she'd be at least a few pounds heavier thanks to the many layers of cosmetics caked on her face. McNamara and Duke dragged multiple different brushes across the brunette’s soft skin. 

”I think that should be enough,” the yellow girl pulled away, smiling at the results of her work as if Veronica were a paint canvas.

”Add a little more blush,” Chandler ordered from across the room, before taking slow steps towards the three other girls, ”And then _I’ll_ do her lipstick.” 

“Sure, Heather,” McNamara replied, “Pass the blush, Heather,” she said to Duke.

“There you go, Heather.”

“Thanks, Heather.”

Veronica held back chuckles at the almost comical interaction between the girls. It was like they were all principal roles in some cheesy sitcom, and everything that escaped their mouths should be followed by an irritating laugh-track. 

Once McNamara finished with the blush, her and Duke took two steps back whilst Chandler strutted closer and closer to Veronica, a peachy-toned glossy lipstick in hand. 

“I think this color will look just _very_ in contrast with your new clothes,” she grinned sickeningly, as per. 

The lipstick’s lid was removed with a small ‘pop,’ before the strawberry blonde leaned in, pearly white teeth tugging on her plump lower lip in concentration.

Veronica stood with her face flushed as Heather tilted her chin up with two fingers, bringing her hand to the former’s lips and gently applying the lipstick.

_Who would’ve thought the demon queen would be so tender around someone’s lips?_

The look on Heather’s face was one Veronica hadn’t truly seen since elementary, when they were best friends. Sometimes Heather would offer to paint the brunette’s nails after declaring that she wanted to be a beautician. They always turned out messy but it was worth it because Veronica was able to watch Heather’s face scrunch up in focus every now and then. 

Veronica felt her heartbeat pick up when the tip of Heather’s thumb brushed her lower lip slightly, so briefly that it was barely there at all, but it was. 

And the brunette damn wished it wasn’t.

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_Girls are so strange. They holler homophobic shit at you but then get all touchy-feely with one another just cause they can._

_The Heathers are clearly fucking with me at this point. They're probably just trying to find a way to prove to the rest of the school that I’m some predatory lesbian, which fucking sucks. I'm going to keep following along for the sake of my real friends and my real friends only. Maybe I'll finally be able to convince the Heathers and the jocks to stop terrorizing Lydia, Martha, and J.D._

_You know, if the Heathers can successfully make me ’beautiful,’ there's no reason why I shouldn't do the same in return. Maybe now is my chance to revert things back to the way they were. When everyone was friendly with each other. It's crazy but it’s worth a shot, and you’re not in high school forever._

_Xoxo, Veronica_

.

School no longer felt like school for Veronica Sawyer after that day. Maybe it was because she rarely attended class due to the Heathers’ constant need to shop during school, maybe it was because Kurt Kelly, Ram Sweeney, and other conventionally attractive jocks were constantly hitting on her in the halls, maybe it was because she wasn’t allowed to speak to her real friends in public in fear of being scolded by her fake ones.

Her whole life, she had dreamed of the day everyone knew her name, but now that that day had finally arrived, she wasn’t sure if it was what she really wanted.

It wasn’t like she could control it, though. Heather Chandler had now trapped her under her wing with no escape.

“Don’t look like such a mope, Veronica,” Duke rolled her eyes. They were sitting at the lunch table, though they weren’t eating lunch. Heather forbid anyone who sat at their table from eating in public, or at least in the school cafeteria.

“I’m just worried about my Spanish test tomorrow. That’s all,” Veronica half-lied. The test wasn’t what was eating away at her, but she still was stressing over it.

”How about we all go shopping after school to make you feel better?” McNamara suggested with a genuine smile on her face. Maybe the other two were fake friends, but the yellow girl wasn’t. She was a complete chowderhead, but she was sweet. 

”Fuck me gently with a chainsaw, do I look like Mother Theresa? I'm not driving all of you to the mall just cause Sawyer is on her period,” Chandler cut in.

 _How very Heather Chandler of her,_ Veronica thought.

”But I could always drive-” Duke began.

”-I’d rather drink drain cleaner mixed with Martha Dunnstock’s throat mucus than be seen in public in your nasty Fiat.”

Veronica sighed, ”I thought I told you to be nicer to my friends.”

”I assumed you meant nice to their faces. I can say whatever I like behind their backs.”

If it was the best Heather could do, it was good enough, even if it pained Veronica to hear her talk so awfully about her best friends.

“I’d rather stay home and study anyways,” said Veronica nonchalantly, “But thanks, McNamara.”

“No problem.”

Heather glared at McNamara, but Veronica didn't notice. 

The bell rang, interrupting the slightly uncomfortable situation. Duke left without a word, McNamara smiled and left for Phys. Ed, leaving Heather and Veronica. 

To Veronica’s surprise, they walked to class together. The brunette assumed Heather was headed to the library, like herself. Veronica liked to study there on Tuesday afternoons during her free periods. 

”So, Ronnie, there's this party on Friday night with these college guys. Duke and Mara aren't invited, but I am, and I was thinkin’ that you could be my plus-one, as a sort of induction into the group, hm?” the red girl explained with a smirk, although there was a slight look of vulnerability in her eyes that Veronica almost missed.

”College guys?” the brunette gulped. She had heard about college guys. They were very handsy, to say the least, ”I don't know, Heather…”

The strawberry blonde stopped in her tracks, ”This is an opportunity of a _lifetime,_ Sawyer. You were nothing before today, and this party will make you the second biggest thing at Westerburg, after me, of course, ” she flipped her hair, absorbed in vanity, ”Your choice…”

The brunette exhaled with defeat, ”Okay.”

Heather grinned in response as they reached the entrance to the library. 

The second bell rang, and Heather flipped around and started speed-walking down the hallway.

”Where are you going?” Veronica called out. Why had she walked all the way to the library with her only to leave as soon as they got there?

”Duh, I have chemistry?” 

”But the science block is in the other building-” Heather had disappeared round a corner before Veronica could finish what she was saying.

.

_Dear diary,_

_My parents always complain about how confusing adolescents are, and at first, I didn't believe them, but now I do. The Heathers are the most confusing people I have ever met._

_Heather McNamara is the nicest Heather, but that’s almost like being the tallest dwarf, or the smartest guy on the football team. She sat on my side of the table at lunch and would compliment me. She hasn’t changed since elementary school, aside from hitting puberty and becoming boy-crazy._

_Heather Duke is colder than my uncle Jerry’s house in Toronto at winter-time. I don't believe she has any emotions other than anger and fear. Out of everyone in the school, she's the most terrified of Heather Chandler. At first, I was worried that I was on her wrong-side, but now I realize there is no right-side, so that makes me feel a little better._

_And Heather Chandler is just a mythic bitch, isn't she? We spoke one-on-one for the first time since 1981 whilst walking to the library, but then it turned out that she wasn't even going to the library, and she had chemistry next, which is on the other side of the school. I don't think I will ever understand her, but part of me really wants to._


	3. don’t touch me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather and Veronica hit the Remington party and _shit happens._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw/ use of the lesbian d slur, sort of iffy consent and potential internalized homophobia
> 
> whoah whoah whoah, lots to unpack here kids! this chapter is lengthyyy and i tried to correct all errors as best as i can but i am pretty damn blind.
> 
> but for all those who celebrate it, MERRY CHRISTMAS!
> 
> not gonna lie, i had a blast writing this chapter.
> 
> enjoy!

Friday night hit Veronica Sawyer like a freight train. It was as if she had slept through the eternity of the week but was awoken by Heather Chandler and a bucket of ice on Friday afternoon.

You see, after school that Friday, J.D gave Veronica a kind ride home (much to the Heathers’ dismay) in his overpriced car that a boy of his age should absolutely not be allowed to own. When they reached Veronica’s place, she thanked her friend before strutting inside and slumping down on her bed, zoning-out as she usually did on Fridays after school. 

God knows how long she was daydreaming for, but it was all put to a stop when a collection of pebbles hit her window, thankfully not shattering. it, but hitting the glass forcefully enough to cause a few small cracks here-and-there. 

_”What on Earth?”_ Veronica gasped, jumping up from the comfort of her bed and rushing towards her window, realizing that the sun was already setting outside.

She was met with the sight of Heather Chandler in a breathtaking red dress, but the look on her face took Veronica’s breath away for a completely different reason.

The brunette opened the window and poked her head out nervously. 

”Did you eat a brain tumor for breakfast, Sawyer?” she yelled, stomping her heels on the lawn, ”You are coming to the Remington party tonight. Let me in so I can help you get ready since you clearly are unable to do so yourself.”

_Fuck shit shit fuck bitch fuck shit!_

Veronica had completely forgotten about the college party Heather had informed her about three days prior. 

The brunette rushed down her staircase at the speed of light, tripping over anything and everything as she approached the front door. 

She managed to compose herself before reaching for the door handle and opening it up, revealing an extremely pissed-off-looking Heather Chandler, who looked even better up close.

”You're still wearing what you wore to school? God, you're such a pillowcase,” Heather grabbed Veronica’s slightly shaky hand, taking the latter off guard. Veronica’s hands were warm and soft, whilst Heather’s were cold and calloused. 

The strawberry blonde pushed through the door, dragging Veronica along with her, much the same as she did on Tuesday morning with McNamara and Duke, but this time it was just the two of them.

Heather insisted Veronica show her to her room, and of course, she obeyed in a heartbeat, not wanting to perish before movie night at Martha’s on Sunday.

When the red-clad girl first entered the brunette’s room, she made a noise of disgust, but if Veronica had paid attention to the look on her face, maybe she would've caught the small smile plastered across her red coated lips.

They abruptly disconnected their hands after realizing they were still holding one another’s. 

”So where’s all your makeup?” Heather pondered, eyes scanning the room.

Veronica had painted her walls blue, just how she told Heather she wanted them back when they were best friends. However, before the brunette even for the chance to tell her friend that her mom gave her permission to paint her walls, Heather had already dropped her. 

Veronica wondered if Heather remembered, but even if the latter did, she would never tell her, because that would mean she remembered what they had, and that would spoil seven years of her pretending she didn't. 

”It’s, uh, in the closet, beside the guitar case,” the brunette answered absentmindedly, ”There isn't much. It’s not expensive like yours.”

”I’ve got a whole box in my trunk if we need backup.”

Was Heather Chandler being nice? Veronica couldn’t tell. 

“This is…” she grimaced as she opened the brunette’s boxes of cheap, badly kept makeup, “It’s _fine,_ I guess, but you should look after your makeup better. It looks like you used your eyeshadow as a croquet ball.”

“Croquet? You still like croquet?” Veronica blurted stupidly, unable to seal her lips for five damn seconds.

“Duh? I’ve played it every Wednesday with the Heathers since middle-school. It gets a little boring after a while, though, because Duke can’t ever get her balls through the hoops, and McNamara can’t even hit the ball for shit. You were a much better competitor back in the day. Then the matches would actually have some _real_ competition,” Heather mumbled the final part, almost in denial.

“Huh?”

“It doesn’t matter. Come here. We better hurry. The party starts in like forty-five minutes, but we’ll arrive in an hour and a half, kapeesh?”

_“Sì signora!”_

“What?”

“Forget it.”

Veronica sat on the bed nervously, swinging her legs as Heather poked through the box of makeup in search of something worth using. After a minute or so of frantic hunting, she had compiled a handful of products that were fine. They weren’t great, but it was the best she could do with a lack of resources.

“Do you have any brushes?” she questioned, Veronica shaking her head in response, “Well. I guess I’ll just have to use my fingers…”

Heather got down on her knees so she was at level with the brunette’s face, laying the pile of cosmetics beside her. A lump developed in Veronica’s throat when she realized that Heather was _right there_ and was about to touch her face with her fingers. Veronica tried to suppress a blush, but it wasn’t easy considering the natural paleness of her face was such a simple canvas for the red to creep on to. 

The blonde began to rub a pale foundation onto Veronica’s soft skin, having to push her bangs back when she reached her forehead.

The immense silence created an unspoken sense of discomfort that Heather knew she’d have to break to carry on, so she spoke up, “You got a CD player?”

“No, but I do have a record player. Sorry that it’s old fashioned… my parents haven’t really caught up with ‘new technologies;’ we still have a rotary phone,” Veronica lowered her head with embarrassment.

“It’s fine. Where are your records?”

When was _anything_ fine for Heather Chandler? Veronica swore she was going mad. 

“Under my bed, and the record player is on my desk to the right of the window.

Heather didn’t give a thank you, but Veronica wasn’t expecting one. The former simply crouched down and began to flick through the brunette’s many records that her parents had been collecting since the fifties.

“Are we feeling like True Blue by Madonna or Rumours by Fleetwood Mac?” Heather asked, but gave her no time to answer before she spoke up herself, “I might party too hard to Madge so I’m gonna go with Rumours. It’s good background noise, y’know?”

“Sure, whatever you want,” Veronica uttered, aware that whatever she said made no difference anyway.

Heather strutted over to the record player, red skirt swishing side to seat with each powerful step. Veronica admired her long legs that caused the girl to tower above the rest of the Heathers, especially Mara who stood at just 5’2. She leaned down, carefully placing the record on the turntable before placing the needle down.

_‘The Chain’_ began to play and Heather began to sway her hips like she was a backup dancer in some music video. She was ethereal and constantly made it so hard to believe she was a high schooler and not some A-list supermodel.

“Side B?” Veronica raised a brow.

“It’s better than side A, that’s a known fact,” Heather stated, walking back to her spot opposite Veronica and continuing the makeup process. 

Although her hands felt rough earlier, against the soft skin of Veronica’s face they felt gentle and warm. She wouldn’t press too hard and would take her time with each product.

Heather would sing along to the occasional lyric before smiling widely and continuing her work.

Were they friends now? It sure felt like it. Enemies don’t do each other’s makeup and sing along to Fleetwood Mac before going to a party together.

“Are you ready for the party?” she inquired as if she had read the brunette’s mind.

“I mean… As ready as I can be,” Veronica shrugged, “But I’ve been warned about college boys…”

“Just ‘cause you don’t like boys doesn’t mean you won’t like college boys. They’ve got bigger dicks n’ muscles. Not like the jocks or that Jesse James kid you hang out with who has the body of a Pizza Hut fork.”

Veronica sighed, “I _do_ like boys Heather.”

“Yeah? List five guys at Westerburg you would ride. Quickly.”

“I- um.”

Heather rolled her eyes, “Okay, because I’m feeling nice, I’ll make it easier. List five guys you would ride and that can include celebrities, people’s dads, the cashier who works at 7-11 on Thursdays - you know what I mean.”

“Okay, um,” Veronica took a while to think, but she blamed it on being under pressure, “Johnny Depp.”

“Nerd.”

“Matthew Broderick?”

“Fair enough.”

“John Stamos.”

“Yes. He’s _very.”_

“Will Smith.”

“Hmmm.”

“And… Tom Hanks.”

_“God_ Sawyer, those are the most basic answers I’ve ever heard. I bet those are the default guys lesbians like you use when they’re put on the spot. Nice try,” Heather snorted, rubbing pink blush onto the apples of Veronica’s cheeks with her thumb.

“Heather, I’m not gay, and even if I was, what would be wrong with that? Be nice for once,” Veronica said, regretfully spilling her guts and wanting nothing more than to take it back instantly.

Heather squinted her eyes, “You got a bone to pick?”

“No! I just… I just wanna know if you _would_ have a problem with that. You throw around that… that word a lot and I just don’t want people getting hurt.”

“What word?”

“The one,” Veronica began to avoid contact, staring at her walls as she tugged on her lower lip, “The word _‘dyke.’_ You and Duke use it a lot but it’s really damaging. And I know you like to make fun of people, but that word is one that you just… you _shouldn’t_ use it,” tears were building in her eyes that she didn’t notice until they were spilling down her cheeks.

Heather’s gaze softened as she folded her arms and knitted her brows together, “Does it hurt you really bad? When I say it?”

Alarm bells went off in the brunette’s mind as she was reminded not to let your predator know your weakness, but she ignored them, “Yeah. It hurts a lot. That’s why I yelled at you guys in the bathroom on Monday. I shouldn’t have snapped at you but I just- I got so agitated and let everything fester and infect me, so I bubbled over.” 

Heather breathed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t really think about the word before I said it.”

“Yeah. Just don’t do it again?”

“Fine.”

An apology from Heather Chandler? What a concept!

They finished up the makeup, having to flip the record multiple times due to it finishing. Neither of them minded having to listen to _’the Chain’_ and _’Gold Dust Woman’_ multiple times, though.

Veronica crept into her mom’s room and stole her curling iron before sitting down on the vanity and allowing Heather to curl her hair. Despite a few burns to the forehead, it all went well, and soon enough they were walking down the driveway towards Heather’s Porsche. 

Heather took the wheel, to Veronica’s dismay. The strawberry blonde was a reckless driver. She ran down at least seven stop signs and potentially one elderly woman before stopping at 7-11.

”Can you go in and get me some corn nuts?” she asked, pouting slightly.

”Why?” Veronica chuckled as she opened the passenger door to leave.

_”Because._ And get BQ, will you?”

Veronica nodded and made a run for the entrance, not wanting to ruin her gentle curls under the light rain. 

”Greetings and salutations!” she heard as she entered, being met with the smiles of J.D and Lydia who were hanging out by the slushie machine.

”Hey guys!” she smiled, running over to them and embracing them individually, ”Where’s Martha?”

”Her little cousins were in town so she stayed home to watch _The Princess Bride_ with them,” explained J.D.

”Mm, no. I'm not convinced,” Lydia cut in, shaking her head as she sipped her cherry slushie, ”It was probably just yet another excuse to watch that movie for the millionth time. Like _fuck,_ I've been here for like _three months_ and I’ve already watched it _twelve_ times with her.”

Veronica giggled before remembering what she was in the store for, ”Shit. Do either of you know where they shelf the BQ corn nuts?”

”They’re on the aisle behind the cashier. I thought you hated all things BQ?” J.D raised his brow.

”No, they’re not for me. They're for Heather. Heather Chandler. She's waiting outside in her car. She's taking me to a Remington party and I'm literally shitting myself, I do _not_ want to go. I wish you guys could be there but not even Duke or Mara were invited so it must be super exclusive,” she rambled, unconsciously waving her hands as she finally got everything off her chest, “And Heather’s probably gonna scold me for stopping to talk to you guys so I’m gonna grab the corn nuts and go but it was great seeing you guys! I’ll see you Sunday for movie night!”

And with that, she dashed to the cashier, bought her corn nuts, and disappeared into Heather Chandler’s car, leaving a baffled Lydia and J.D in the store.

“What’s a Remington?” asked Lydia, turning her head to her friend who was sipping his slushie at a worrying speed.

“It’s the local college,” he replied, punching his forehead to try and calm the brain freeze, “The guys there are super hot.”

“Sure,” smirked Lydia, sipping her drink once again. The cherry flavoring tinted her cold, pale lips red, which she noticed in her reflection on the building’s glass, causing her to smile to herself.

“You’re pretty like shit,” J.D stated as if it was nothing, “Not in that way ’cause, y’know, I swing the other way… but it’s just crazy that jocks ignore girls like you when you’re easily one of the prettiest girls at Westerburg.”

“Where’d all that come from, Billy the Kid? I don’t remember spikin’ your slushie,” she joked, “But whatever. I’m glad the jocks don’t drool over me the way they do to the Heathers and now V. I guess you could say I _swing the other way,”_ she mocked, earning a punch in the shoulder before J.D realized what she said. 

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Look at us!” he grinned, hugging his friend and accidentally spilling some slushie down her jacket. 

“Wipe it off _now.”_

.

They had arrived at the party, parking up in some random alleyway near the place, but Veronica couldn’t bring herself to get out of the car. 

“Ronnie I swear to _god_ if you don’t move your skinny little ass and come in with me…” Heather seethed, leaning over Veronica threateningly.

“Just go in without me! I’ll tag along eventually, I just have to get myself together.”

“No! I can’t just _go in_ without you,” she yelled.

“Why not!”

“Because- I- just get _out!”_

Veronica was tired of arguing, so she allowed Heather’s hand to wrap around her forearm and yank her out of the car haphazardly, slamming the door shut behind them.

They walked towards the guy’s driveway, noticing a few cars dotted around with steamed-up windows. There were also multiple couples necking it on the grass with complete disregard for the world around them.

“Okay, here are a few ground rules,” Heather began, stepping in front of Veronica before she could walk through the entrance, “First of all, stay close to me, unless I go off with a guy, then stay around the punch bowl or go cry in the bathroom - I don’t really care what you do. If some guy is hitting on you, go with it. I’m not having my +1 be a prude at a Remington party, okay?”

“Um, okay.”

“And the final rule is: do _not_ overdo it. Three cups max. If you get hammered you’ll do embarrassing shit and humiliate not only _yourself_ but me as well.”

The brunette nodded in response as Heather gave a sly smirk, “Now, are you ready to party?”

Veronica knew that the girl wouldn’t take no for an answer, so she nodded once more, a half-hearted _‘sure’_ escaping her lips.

The strawberry blonde grinned and pulled Veronica through the doorway. They weaved their way through many drunk adolescents and a few adults far too old to be hanging anywhere near high schoolers.

“Where are we going?” the brunette asked.

“We’re looking for David…. There he is!” Heather exclaimed, running over to the evidently highly-intoxicated man. 

“Would you look at you,” the man - David - said to Heather in a rather predatory manner, “And who is your little friend?” he added, gaze shifting to Veronica and staring her down pointedly.

“This is Ronnie,” Heather answered, not wanting all of David’s attention to be on someone else other than herself. 

“Nice to meet you, Ronnie,” he said, before turning back to Heather and pressing his muscled torso against her, “Now, you wanna take this to my room babe?”

“Of course,” she replied with a smirk, but Veronica could sense that something was off. She decided not to bring it up in fear of a scolding from the demon queen herself.

So there Veronica was, shakily holding a cup of sickly alcohol that made her lightheaded with a single sip, standing alone at a party with a bunch of creepy college students.

That was until some random sweaty guy approached her with a strange smile on his face.

“Hey! I’ve never seen you around before? Do you go to Remington?” he inquired, swaying gently to the Pointer Sisters blasting through speakers in the next room. 

”Uh no, I don't. I go to Westerburg, I'm a high schooler,” she responded, avoiding eye contact as much as possible.

”Westerburg huh? I'm Brad, by the way. I'm David’s roommate, but his parents were outta town so we shipped out of the ol' flat and came here, and I begged for an invitation,” he babbled, ”And what's your name?”

”Veronica.”

”Cool.”

Veronica stared down at her cup, watching the liquid swirl around and glitter under the neon lights illuminating the corridor. She clenched her jaw whilst tapping her foot, wishing to be _anywhere_ else rather than where she was at that moment. 

“It’s so great to be able to talk to a girl and not have to ask _‘What's your major?’._ I hate that,” Brad, unfortunately, ended the silence, but Veronica couldn’t bring herself to reply. He continued, “So when you go to college, what subjects do you think you'll study?”

.

David and Heather had splayed themselves out across the former's sofa bed, kissing one another with reckless abandon. Their teeth clashed painfully, tongues wrapping around each other.

David began to navigate his way down Heather’s flushed neck, marking her whilst slowly moving his hand under her dress.

Heather winced at the feeling, moving to push him off, “Come on, David. Shouldn’t we get back to the party?”

“We will… It’s just you’re so hot tonight… I can't help myself,” he whimpered. 

The strawberry blonde sighed before sitting both of them up and allowing the man to push her head between her legs needily. 

In the other room, Brad was stumbling through the door drunkenly, dragging a disgusted Veronica behind him.

He pushed her down on the bed roughly, the slight calmness that was there with his sobriety now gone completely. She just lay down, playing with a match she found on a shelf, not wanting to make the first move.

“How’s my little cheerleader, huh?”

“Lay off it, Brad.”

“I know everyone at your high school isn’t so uptight. Come on…” he smirked, tiptoeing towards the worrisome brunette, making a futile attempt to straddle her quivering legs.

“Come on now, look, I don’t feel so good, okay?” Veronica cringed, her mind in a slight haze as his lips made their way down her pale neck.

“Hey, let's do it over the coats, it’ll be excellent, huh?”

Veronica couldn’t. She just _couldn’t._ Even if she had wanted to - but she really, _really_ didn’t. She stood up, finally pushing Brad off her.

“You know, I have a little prepared speech for my suitor when he wants more than I'm prepared to give him,” she said, standing her ground and placing her slightly trembling hands on her waist. 

“Save the speeches for Malcolm X,” he snorted, “I just wanna get laid!”

That single sentence set off a spark inside Veronica. A spark inside her that assured her that she didn’t like boys.

She almost couldn’t stand boys. 

They were rough and careless and selfish and cold.

But _girls..._

Girls were gentle and soft and warm and, even when horrible, so damn loveable.

But she could never love a boy.

“You don’t deserve my fucking speech,” she spat, strutting to the exit and slamming the door, “Jesus Christ,” she said to herself. 

.

Heather had locked herself in the bathroom, sniffling to herself on the cracked toilet seat. 

She hadn’t drunk as much as she usually would, but part of her wondered if that was a good thing, because she felt painfully sober after messing around with David. 

The bottom of her dress was ripped, as well as one of her sleeves; thanks to David’s immense tugging.

She wondered where Veronica was, feeling bad that she left her all alone. The last time she saw her was beside Brad, and Heather had heard about him. He was as clingy as a moth to a lamp, and never took no for an answer, much like every other guy at Remington. 

_“Maybe I should try and look for her,”_ she thought, exiting the toilet after a quick glance at her messy state in the mirror.

As she stepped into the booming hallway, a man tumbling down the stairs caught her eye. He approached her drunkenly, allowing Heather to recognize him as Brad.

_“Heyyyy Heather,”_ he purred, stumbling over to her, “You wanna get it on? I’m sure you’re much more interesting than your little friend. She’s the biggest killjoy I’ve ever encountered.”

Heather flinched. She didn’t want to _begin_ to think about what had happened to Veronica when she was gone, but she couldn’t let others know that she was concerned. She knitted her brows together and pushed past Brad in search of the brunette, finding her hanging near the exit, sipping on a drink all alone.

“Sawyer!” Heather called across the room.

Veronica’s head shot up in surprise, her eyes fluttering slightly at the sudden exposure to light. 

She was definitely tipsy.

“What’s your damage? Brad says you’re being a real kuse,” Heather blurted regretfully as she cornered the brunette. She didn’t want to be rude, but she couldn’t help it. Rude was what everyone around her thought she was. 

“Heather, I feel really sick,” Veronica mumbled, “Like I'm gonna throw up, so can we please jam now?”

“No! Hell no-“ she raged, but was unable to finish because Veronica was emptying her insides out onto her red stilettos.

Heather was _fuming._ Everyone was staring at her. She couldn’t handle it. She grabbed Veronica’s arm and dragged her out the back of the house, onto a dark lane lit only by dim street lights and the red disco lights from inside.

“You stupid fuck!” Heather snapped.

“You _goddamn_ bitch,” Veronica reacted defensively, showing off a bold side of her that Heather had never seen before.

“I got you into a Remington party. What's my thanks? It's on the hallway carpet. I got paid in puke!” she yelled, flailing her arms around in fury. 

“Lick it up baby, _Lick. It. Up!”_

Heather didn’t know what possessed her, but she found herself grabbing Veronica by the braces of her pinafore, pulling her in until their lips met. 

They were connected for a second, maybe two, before Heather pushed her away.

“You _dyke!_ You absolute _freak!_ Why the fuck did I do anything nice for you? Get away from me! Monday morning, you're history. I'll tell everyone about tonight. Transfer to Washington. Transfer to Jefferson. No-one at Westerburg's gonna let you play their _reindeer games,”_ Heather almost shrieked, her words hitting the brunette like bullets.

Veronica’s eyes turned glassy, her lips turning down as her jaw clenched. Then, she ran. She ran out of the alleyway, running into the distance, running away from Heather.

The strawberry blonde was left shaking, folding her arms to warm herself up. 

_What had she done?_

.

_Dear Diary,_

_It was all too good to be true. I’m so careless. I really thought Heather was warming up to me? I’m such an idealistic little shit, and this was my reality check._

_I’ve been in the Heathers for what? Three days? And I already fucked it all up. What a surprise! Who would’ve thought! I bet J.D was counting the minutes._

_Monday morning, I’m done for._

_And why?_

_Because Heather Chandler fucking kissed me then got mad at me as if I was the one who initiated it._

_Normally I take the blame, but this was not me. She kissed me. She pulled me forward and kissed me. I let it happen. I loved it. Clearly she didn’t. It’ll be the end of Veronica Sawyer._

_Don’t even get me started on those Remington boys. I swear that Brad guy has scarred me for life - I’m literally too scared to be around any guy aside from my dad and J.D._

_Maybe I should move away or change my name. I dunno. Anything sounds better than this._

.

Veronica reached past the many used tissues splayed across her nightstand, grasping for the telephone. She dialed Martha, for she of all people would know how to make her feel better. They’d known one another since diapers. Albeit, they weren’t always best friends, but they _did_ know almost everything about each other.

_“Hey V, what’s up? It’s super late! J.D said you were at a party, how was it? Were there cute guys?”_

“It was awful, Martha.”

_“What happened?”_

“First of all, this guy Brad from the college tried to chat me up then fuck me, luckily I managed to escape, only to throw up all over Heather Chandler’s Loubs, and then the worst part: she kissed me for like one second, pushed me away, and called me a dyke! I’m so fucked, Martha. She told me I’m done for on Monday,” she sobbed into the line, eyes pouring onto her huddled frame.

_“Oh I’m so sorry, V. The Heathers really didn’t deserve a kind-hearted person like you. They wouldn’t understand the true meaning of friendship if it slapped them across their pretty little faces! I can't believe she kissed you though… that’s crazy. Was it nice?”_

“Yes! That’s another issue! I loved it and I want it again and again but I hate her and she hates me but part of me really, really _can’t_ hate her and I don’t know why!

_“Maybe you have a crush, Veronica.”_

“Me? But I’m straight.”

_“Veronica… I've known you for a very long time...”_

The brunette thought about it - _really_ thought about it. Martha was right. She liked Heather Chandler. Like _like_ liked Heather. Of all the people? Veronica was crazy.

“Martha I- you’re right. You’re so right. But what am I supposed to do? She wants me dead. Hell, maybe that’s for the best.”

“Shut up V! You’re the greatest friend I ever had, okay? Now, what’dya say I reschedule movie night to tomorrow and it can be at your place so you don’t have to get up. You need this.”

“Thanks, Martha, you’re a real friend.”

_“I’m gonna go to bed. Are you gonna be okay?”_

“Yeah, I’ll probably hit the pillows now too. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

_“Perfect! Night night!”_

“Night, Martha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told u shit was getting heated ;)
> 
> (p.s writing + reading feels so sexy on my new phone)


	4. family values

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang of losers comfort Veronica after what happened with Heather, but a removal van in front of the house opposite catches Lydia’s eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is basically a chapter filled with j.d, martha, veronica and lydia friendship cuteness, but also, as the chapter title states, enter the addams family!
> 
> so wednesday, in this, is the same age as musical wednesday, but it is still christina ricci, but basically christina ricci in penelope, dressed as wednesday addams, if that makes sense.
> 
> in conclusion:  
> this is (lowkey) a filler chapter riddled with 80s film and music references as well as cavity-inducing sweet fluff from lydia and wednesday 
> 
> ALSO i know i said i would make chapters longer (5k+ words) but i was having some crimbo-limbo writers block so i pushed out this slightly shorter chapter. it’s only 3032 words but i do think it’s kinda cute....
> 
> enjoy!!!!

“Why isn’t she answering?” J.D groaned, pounding his fist against the Sawyer’s front door.

“She’s heartbroken, J.D! She’s probably bed bound and can’t bring herself to leave her room. We should enter through the back. There’s always a key under the mat at the back door,” Martha suggested, making her way around the side-gate, towards the back yard. 

J.D followed suit, but Lydia was left staring off into the distance, watching a large truck drive down the street, towards the house opposite Veronica’s. The side of the truck read _’Armstrong Relocation’_ “Are they furnishing a torture chamber?” she thought, _“Those look like my kinda neighbours!”_

“Lydia! What are you doing?” J.D called from the side of the house.

“M’ just coming!” she replied, snapping out of her daze. She followed where Martha had led, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the house and whoever was moving in. She _knew_ she’d have to check back some other time, being the strange and curious girl she was. 

In the backyard, Martha leaned down, sticking her hand under the door-mat. After moving it around for a while, she finally snagged the backdoor key, handing it to J.D so he could unlock it.

They all crept up the stairs for no reason at all other than to feel cool and mysterious, eventually reaching Veronica’s bedroom door on the second floor.

They knocked once, earning no response. They decided to enter anyway and found Veronica huddled up on her bed with her Walkman, blasting _Tears for Fears_ through her headphones. She jumped at the sight of her three friends standing at the door, wiping away the tears that had been running down her cheeks as a way to compose herself. 

“Hey guys!” she smiled, trying to cover up the fact that she had been sobbing in her bed for 12 hours straight, “Sorry I didn’t hear you come in, I completely lost track of time and-“ she couldn’t finish what she wanted to say, because Martha, J.D and Lydia had all sprinted up to her, all of them ambushing her with a tight, caring group-hug, “Awe, I love you guys. You really didn’t have to come all the way out here.”

“All the way? More like two blocks in J.D’s car. You _need us right now._ We’re your _friends_ and we are here for you! We’re so sorry you had such a shitty night. You didn’t deserve any of what Heather put you through,” Martha comforted, wiping away a few stray tears escaping her friend’s eyes.

“We’ll protect you on Monday,” Lydia assured.

“No, you don’t have to - that’d be _chaos.”_

“Chaos is what killed the dinosaurs, darling,” J.D grinned, pulling away from the hug and reaching for the brunette’s television remote, “So, what movie are we watching tonight? We stopped at Blockbuster on the way here and picked up a couple of classics from the last 10 years that you might like…” he reached into his jacket, pulling out four rented VHS taped movies, laying them across the bed, “Number one: _Dirty Dancing_ \- Martha’s idea, and I only accepted ‘cause Patrick Swayze is sexy and the soundtrack is filled with amazing hits, number two: _Mannequin_ \- so, _so_ iconic and, might I add, _criminally_ underrated (critics reviews can kiss my ass,) three: _A Nightmare on Elm Street - Lydia’s choice, of course, and last but not least, _Labyrinth_ \- David _fucking Bowie, need I say more?”

“Hmm,” Veronica dramatically stroked her chin in contemplation, “I’m feeling like _Mannequin,_ mainly so I can sing along to _Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now_ at the end.”

“Stellar choice.” J.D threw his friend finger-guns before tossing the VHS tape to Lydia, who slotted it into the VCR. Lydia then offered to go grab everyone some popcorn from the kitchen, which the empty-bellied group unanimously supported. 

The opening titles played faintly in the background as the short girl made her way down Veronica’s creaky staircase. She knew her way around the house rather well, especially considering she had only moved to Ohio a few months prior. Her and Veronica had become instant friends after being paired up in Sex Ed class on Lydia’s first day.

Lydia padded into the kitchen and towards the snack cupboard, located on the highest shelf to the right of the window. Just as she was about to open it up, she caught a glimpse of a hearse-like car pulling up to the house opposite, parking itself beside the removal van.

The first person to exit the car was the driver; a tall man in a black and white pinstriped suit, with a dapper white shirt under and a black bow-tie. He looked like a 1940s film star, or perhaps someone in the Italian Mafia, especially with the excessive amounts of hair gel on his head and his strange looking moustache. 

The next person to exit the car was the front passenger; a woman. She, also, was rather tall, and presumably the driver’s wife, for he greeted her with a chaste kiss on the cheek when she approached him. She walked in a ghost lydia manor, the long black dress she sported floating in the wind. Her hair was long and as black as Lydia’s, contrasting against her abnormally pale skin and scarlet-colored lipstick.

Before Lydia was able to people-watch for any longer, J.D called for her from upstairs, whining about his empty stomach.

“‘M coming!” she called back, swiftly opening the cupboard door, grabbing the first unopened popcorn she could see, and darting up the stairs without another thought.

When she entered the room, everyone was fixated on the first scene of the film, except Veronica, who stared at Lydia with a curious sneer. 

“What took you so long?” the brunette questioned.

“Oh I was just… lost in thought,” she fibbed, chewing on her lower-lip nervously - it was an unfortunate habit of hers, for it made it _impossible_ to get away with a lie. Anyone who knew her knew that she wasn’t being truthful if her lip was caught between her teeth. 

Veronica snickered, “What are you hiding, Lyds?”

“It’s just,” she sighed, scratching her forehead gently, “I was people-watching your new neighbours, and they just seem… _interesting.”_

Veronica’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in realisation, _“Ohhhh!_ My mom told me we were getting new neighbours. She says they’re a family of 7. A married. couple with two kids, the kids’ uncle, their grandma and a butler.”

“Damn. That’s an odd combination.”

“Yeah. The mom’s name is Morticia and the dad’s called Gomez. They’re from New Jersey.”

“Gross,” J.D cut in, stuffing his mouth full of popcorn, “I hate New Jerseyans.”

“My dad is from New Jersey!” Lydia hissed.

“Whatever.”

Veronica gently patted the empty space beside her on her bed, gesturing Lydia to come and sit. The short girl obliged, squeezing herself between Veronica and Martha - the latter had been quite quiet, almost _too_ fixated on the movie, as she was with any other cheesy romcom. 

“Andrew McCarthy is _so_ dreamy,” she finally spoke up, her chin resting in her palm.

“You should see him in _Pretty in Pink,_ he’s much sexier in that,” J.D managed to say through a mouthful of popcorn.

“I personally think that Molly Ringwald is the _sexiest_ part of that movie,” Lydia chuckled, and Veronica was quick to agree.

It felt so good to have a supporting friend that could relate to her own struggles. Having queer friends like J.D and Lydia eased Veronica into coming to terms with her sexuality a little more. 

Veronica couldn’t ask for better friends.

When wedding scene in the film’s finale finally came, all four of them instantly stood up and danced to the iconic song blasting in the background.

 _“And we can build this thing together, standing strong forever. Nothing’s gonna stop us now. And if this world runs out of lovers, we’ll still have each other. Nothing’s gonna stop us… Nothing’s gonna stop us noooowwww.”_ They all pranced around the room like maniacs, shrieking the lyrics to the song at an ear-splitting volume. None of them had a particularly good singing voice, aside from Lydia. She was beyond incredible, but too shy to do anything about it. 

They were just about to hit the key-change when the doorbell rang. If J.D didn’t have perfect hearing, the ringing would’ve gone unnoticed to the group, but thankfully he pointed it out.

“Is that the sexy milkman…” he shouted over the loud music, pulling his belt tighter to accentuate his ass as much as possible, hoping to be able to provoke whoever stood at the door.

“No, he only comes on Mondays. I don’t know who it is but I really cannot be bothered to go downstairs. Can one of you guys _pleaseeee_ gooooo,” Veronica whined, crawling back under her covers after turning the volume on the movie down, pretending to be miserable once again — which she still was, but the film managed to suppress it for a while.

“I’ll stay here and comfort you.” Martha wrapped herself up under Veronica’s electric blanket, also making an excuse not to go downstairs.

“Well, someone’s gotta finish this popcorn, and that’ll be me, so Lydia, _please_ answer the door!” J.D pouted, giving Lydia childish puppy-dog eyes.

“Fine, but only so I don’t have to see you pull that gross pouty face again.”

So once again, Lydia was making her way down the Sawyer’s creaky staircase, approaching the front door slowly. 

_What if it was a hitman holding a gun out, waiting to shoot her in the head?_

_What if it was one of the Heathers waiting to torment her and her friends?_

_What if it was the cops who had turned up after a noise complaint had been filed because J.D was singing far too loudly and had burst the next door neighbours eardrum?_

She slapped herself across the forehead to calm the irrational thoughts before reaching forward and turning the brass doorknob to the left, opening the door hesitantly.

Only until the door was fully open could she process what, or who, was in front of her. A girl who looked around her age - maybe a year or so younger - stood in front of her, holding a tray of extremely burnt coffin-shaped cookies. Lydia glanced at the cookies first, however her brown-eyed gaze eventually made its way up to the girl’s face.

“Good day. My name is Wednesday. Wednesday Addams. I have just relocated into the building across the street and my mother ordered me to bring you baked goods as an introduction, so I did the best I could. Is this your home?” the girl, Wednesday, spoke. Her voice was monotonous and deep, but well-spoken and articulate. She almost spoke as if she was reading from a script. 

“I- um,” Lydia couldn’t form coherent speech, still staring at Wednesday’s long, black plaits and large chestnut eyes, “No, I do not live here.”

“May you pass these over to whomever it is that lives here, then?” she requested, arms still straightened out, holding the tray of cookies without a single tremble of tiredness.

“Yeah, sure,” Lydia smiled slightly, carefully taking the tray from her, “My name is Lydia. Lydia Deetz. I live a couple blocks over. This is my friend Veronica Sawyer’s house. It’s nice to meet you, Wednesday.”

“Do you attend Westerburg highschool?” 

“Yeah! I do! Are you joining?”

“Yes. I start on Monday,” Wednesday explained, despite sounding very disinterested, “I have a younger brother, but he isn’t joining. It’s for the best. He wouldn’t be as appealing to your eyes as I apparently am,” she added smugly, before strutting down the driveway, across the street and back to her house.

Lydia stood there awe-struck, shakily holding the tray for a good few minutes until Veronica came up behind her.

“Cookies!” Veronica exclaimed, “Oh. They’re burnt… and coffin shaped… Did you make those, Lyds? They look very… _you.”_

“No,” Lydia breathed, though her mind was elsewhere and her once pale face was now beet red and scorching hot, “Your new neighbour did.”

.

“Mother, I delivered the cookies as you requested,” said Wednesday, entering her new kitchen which was currently filled with removal men unpacking items from countless cardboard boxes. 

Her mother stood at the window, gazing at the new street in front of her, “Good girl,” she turned to her daughter slowly, “These neighbours… What are they like?”

“The family who lives inside it are the Sawyers, but the person who answered the door was an acquaintance of the Sawyer’s daughter Veronica. Her name was Lydia, and I think I like her very much.” It was true. Wednesday got rather flustered with the thought of the new girl. She was a rather beautiful specimen. You wouldn’t have found girls like her back in New Jersey. 

It was slightly unnerving, however, because Wednesday had never _felt_ flustered before. She had never felt attraction towards somebody that wasn’t a character in a book (because _yes,_ after reading Stephen King’s _Carrie_ at the age of 7, she was instantly attracted to _Carrie White)_ but Lydia’s little smile, deep cheekbones and full lips made her stomach flip.

She _knew_ Lydia reciprocated the attraction she felt, because Wednesday seemed to have the ability to read people’s auras terrifyingly well. 

Needless to say, she was looking forward to starting at her new school that Monday. She had never attended public school before, but now that she was finally 17, her father _finally_ agreed to her joining. Her little brother Pugsley was still to be homeschooled for the time being, however, because he hadn’t matured just yet. He was just 12 years old.

“I think on Monday I shall befriend Lydia. She attends Westerburg,” Wednesday added, earning no response from her mother. She decided to go upstairs to her new bedroom and start unpacking boxes just like everyone else.

It took a bit of convincing, but she managed to score the entirety of the attic to herself. It wasn’t huge, but it was the perfect size for a 5’1 teenager who considered themselves a minimalist, consequently not owning many things, and it had a hidden exit to the rooftop, which would be the perfect place for Wednesday to sit and analyse the street below, noting important details down in one her notebooks.

The attic stairs were unsafe, to say the least. They creaked with each step. Wednesday enjoyed the adrenaline of walking up and down them. 

Once she reached the room, she ventured through one of the boxes that the removal men had placed down, in search of her A5 red leather covered notebook. She then grabbed a pencil before making her way to the rooftop.

There was a gentle November breeze, causing Wednesday’s plaits to float around slightly. She didn’t mind. She leaned against the chimney, crossing her legs under her dress and staring at the street below her. 

From where she sat, she was able to see into every single one of the Sawyer’s windows, as well as part of their backyard, where she spotted a wooden swing tied to a tree and a croquet set.

She scribbled down a quick sketch of the tree with the swing on a blank page. Once she had finished the sketch, she stared at it intently. Something was missing. Then, she began to sketch a girl on the swing, moving freely in the wind. The girl quickly became a sketch of Lydia, and soon enough, Wednesday had sketched herself pushing Lydia on the swing. 

She smiled slightly at her work when it was completed.

She labelled it, as she did with all her other pieces of artwork,

_‘Pretty girl in the wind by Wednesday Addams.’_

.

J.D drove Martha, Veronica and Lydia to school that Monday, but convincing Veronica to get out of the car seemed to be quite a challenge.

“Heather, Heather and _maybe_ Heather will _kill_ me if I set foot in there,” she said, gripping onto the front passenger seat for dear life. 

“Please, Veronica. It’s not like they can torment us any more than usual,” Martha said in an attempt to comfort her friend, to no avail.

Lydia and J.D took one arm each, trying to yank the girl out of the vehicle. Surrounding students began to stare, but no less than they would on a usual day.

By the time Veronica gave in, J.D had already broke into a glistening sweat.

“Listen; you only have _one_ class with Heather Chandler today, none with Heather Duke and two with Heather McNamara, who you said _‘wasn’t that bad,’_ so get your shit together and come inside before we are _late,”_ he snapped, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.

“Since when have you cared about tardiness?” Veronica retorted.

“Be quiet.”

The four of them began to make their way towards the steps leading up to the front entrance, but Lydia stopped in her tracks when she saw _her._

Her hair was styled the same way it had been two days before, and she wore a black button up dress, patterned with tiny white roses.

“Hey, you guys should go inside, I’m just gonna stay back for a second,” Lydia said to the group, before walking towards Wednesday, “Welcome to Westerburg high, I will be your tour guide today, my name is Lydia Deetz...”

Wednesday looked up from her feet, smirking when she spotted the familiar girl talking to her, “Hello again,” she said.

“Do you have your timetable for the semester yet?” Lydia asked curiously, reaching into her pocket to pull out her own. Wednesday nodded and retrieved hers from her satchel before comparing their classes.

“It seems we’ll be spending a lot of time together,” Wednesday said, analysing the many classes her and the other girl would be sharing.

“Yes, it does seem so.”

“I don’t have a problem with that at all.”

“Nor do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooohhh and by the way lydia and wednesday will not have a smut scene at all in this fic unless it is highly requested but i doubt it would be.
> 
> sorry if there are spelling errors. i’m tired as shit and super drained this week because it’s that time of the year where there is an unnecessarily excessive amount of social events, and i have reached my f&%*kng limit.


	5. feeling things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We discover something through the point-of-view of Heather Chandler, Heather Chandler surprises the loser squad and Wednesday and Lydia are cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for discussion of death of a parent ! 
> 
> i was really proud of this chapter then i proof read it and wasn’t proud of it but i wanted to post it anyway. i can’t seem to get gaps between the lines that divide the chapters. i’m such an old man.
> 
> also my fic won’t appear at the top of the heather chandler/ veronica sawyer tag when updated which means so many people won’t realise that i update and my fic flops.
> 
> ao3 plz ... i’m trying my best
> 
> (EDIT, JAN 24TH 2020)
> 
> my writers block is being a fat bitch rn but i promise i’ll try finish + post the chapter this weekend i just have so much homework and i’m not in a good mental place rn :( i hope u all understand and know that i’m rlly trying to push out chapters and i do enjoy posting it’s just rn i’m not thriving

_Dear Diary._

_Fuck! Why am I saying dear diary? That’s fucking stupid._

_I’ll just say hi._

_Hi._

_I’m Heather Chandler and today Mrs Fleming took me out of class because “I looked depressed,” so now I have to keep a fucking journal or else she’ll fail me in History class._

_I’m not depressed! I’m just fucking exhausted of all the pillowcases at Westerburg. Duke is a little shit, McNamara doesn’t know anything, Kurt Kelly keeps telling me he wants to impregnate me and Ram Sweeney keeps sneaking into the showers after Phys. Ed to watch me shower naked. I can’t stand it anymore!_

_And the worst part is that I think I like someone. Crushes are nice and all, until your crush is your ex-best friend, who is a girl, and a fucking freak._

_Veronica Sawyer._

_God, why do I even like her? She’s such a stupid fuck. But she’s fucking beautiful and I actually had a chance with her but then I fucked it up by kissing her then screaming at her. Maybe I’m the stupid fuck._

_I just wanna make shit up to her but how the fuck am I supposed to do that? Maybe I’ll invite her and her group of losers to my birthday bash this Saturday._

_Yeah. That’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna tell her and her friends at lunch._

.

“Lydia I’m not sure,” Wednesday fretted, clenching her stack of new textbooks against her chest, “I do not think your comrades would appreciate me. Perhaps I should just sit alone - It’s for the best.”

The two of them were standing secluded in a bathroom stall, and Lydia was trying to convince her new friend to sit with her group at lunch. They had spent the last two days getting to know one another more and more, and Wednesday was one of the most interesting people Lydia had ever known.

“Please,” Lydia pouted, “They’ll love you…”

”Hmmm,” the taller girl contemplated, ”If you insist.”

”Thank you, Weds!” Lydia grinned, pulling Wednesday into a tight hug for no reason at all other than to feel _close_ to her. Wednesday flinched at the contact - she had never hugged anyone before. It felt different from how people had explained it. Better, even. Lydia pulled away when she felt the girl’s discomfort, “Sorry.”

“It is fine. Shall we go to the cafeteria then?” Wednesday asked, holding back a small smile.

Lydia nodded, taking Wednesday’s hand and leading her out of the bathroom, dropping it when they were in the corridor. She pushed open the lunchroom’s double doors, making her way towards her friends’ table whilst making sure Wednesday was following. 

“Hey ladies,” Lydia exclaimed as she sat down. She gently patted the seat beside her, ushering Wednesday to sit. The girl complied hesitantly. _”This_ is Wednesday Addams. She’s new to the school, and she’s V’s new neighbour.”

J.D looked up from his fries and smiled, holding his hand out for Wednesday to shake. She didn't accept it.

“Where are you from, Wednesday?” asked Martha with a sweet smile on her face.

“New Jersey,” she answered, edging slightly closer to where Lydia sat. She wouldn’t admit it herself, but she was rather uneasy around all these fresh faces.

”Oh that's _you!_ Lydia talked about you!” J.D teased poor Lydia, who had turned white as a sheet.

”She did?” Wednesday smirked.

”No! Not really.” Lydia countered defensively, her head in her hands, ”Anyways, Wednesday will be sitting with us at lunch from now on. She's really nice. Everyone introduce yourself.”

”I’m J.D, I’m gay as hell and I love Joy Division.”

”I’m Veronica, I’m your neighbour and I am a loser. I love Fleetwood Mac though.”

”I’m Martha and I love soft romance movies and ice-cream!”

”It is nice to meet you all. I do not know what a Joy Division or a Fleetwood Mac is, but I am sure they are great,” Wednesday said bluntly, baffling Veronica. Lydia could only giggle.

Veronica side-eyed her friend. It wasn’t often that she was so smiley and confident. She _definitely_ liked her. Veronica wasn’t one to intrude. 

The group babbled on for a while, getting to know the girl, watching her slowly warm up to all of them. They were all easy to talk to. J.D could be condescending at times, but he was never serious. 

“Is this your whole friend group?” Wednesday asked suddenly, her eyes shifting from Lydia to something else in the cafeteria.

“Yes, why?” Veronica raised a brow, her back facing wherever Wednesday was looking.

“Well there seems to be another attractive female approaching our table,” she stated, and Veronica whipped her head around to see who she meant. 

Her breathing sped up when she caught sight of the red-clad girl marching towards their table. Her expression was unreadable - it didn’t look angry or venomous - however, Veronica was _still_ convinced that this was the end of her _(again.)_

Heather had far too much power at that very moment. She could end Veronica’s life in a second by merely proclaiming that the brunette had kissed her against her will, and even if Veronica _tried_ to tell everyone the truth, not a _single soul_ would believe her, aside from her friends. Veronica had made herself too comfortable around the strawberry blonde that night before the Remington party. 

Veronica had the confidence to tell Heather how much the D-slur affected her. It wasn’t exactly coming out to her, but it was telling the _Demon Queen_ herself what made her _vulnerable._

It was after the party when she realized how big of a mistake that was.

“She’s not our friend,” Martha said to Wednesday with a hint of sadness in her voice. The calm before the storm, or so she thought.

“Hey guys!” Heather exclaimed, lips curling up slightly. 

To Veronica’s surprise, the strawberry blonde didn’t spare her a glance, focusing more on Lydia, J.D and Wednesday.

“Oh, you must think I’m such a clod! I didn’t even bother to introduce myself to your new friend!” Heather lifted her perfectly manicured hand to her chest before reaching for Wednesday’s hand to shake aggressively, “My name is Heather, Heather Chandler, and you are?”

“Wednesday Addams.” 

“What an interesting name!”

“What brings you to our table, Heather my love?” J.D smiled sarcastically, earning a scowl from the red-clad girl.

“Well, I wanted to formally invite you to my birthday party this Saturday. It’ll be _very._ Gifts are not a must but donations to my daddy’s fund are welcome,” she winked, “Ronnie knows my address. Party starts at 10. You won’t want to miss it!” and with that, she was gone. 

Was this some kind of _sick joke,_ thought Veronica. Just over 72 hours ago, Heather was screaming in Veronica’s face, telling her that she was a _freak_ and that she was _nothing._

“So, we’re going right?” J.D grinned, leaning against the table, “Did you know that 1 in 3 people are gay? I’m _bound_ to catch some dick there. Heather Chandler’s parties are always the biggest social events of the year. We’d be crazy to miss it.”

Martha nodded, though her mind was slightly cloudy, “Whether it’s a prank or not, I’m willing to risk it. These years are s’posed to be the best years of my life, but I haven’t experienced _anything._ This could be my chance. I’m down.”

“I’ve attended a vast number of lavish dinner parties, but never a high school party. I wouldn’t be against trying one out,” Wednesday interjected, surprising the table. 

“If Wednesday’s going, then I’m going,” Lydia gleamed in a _totally_ non-gay way.

Veronica eyed all her friends as if they had each grown an extra head.

“Are you guys serious?” she gaped.

“Dead serious. Come on, V…” J.D pouted, as per usual. It wasn’t very convincing, but still, Veronica didn’t want to burden her friends, “You gonna come with us?”

“Fine, but it’s a _risk.”_

“And that’s the _best part,”_ Wednesday asserted, and Veronica watched as Lydia’s face reddened.

The last thing she was going to do was let down her friends, but she was so _afraid._ It definitely was _’the anniversary effect.’_ The day of the party would mark exactly seven years since the final day her and Heather Chandler spent as best friends before Heather stabbed her in the back and never spoke to her ever again, seven years since her and Heather had fallen asleep on the couch with stomachs full of birthday cake in complete bliss and contentedness.

Veronica had two options. She could take the safe route, pussy out and spend yet _another_ Saturday renting out some old romance movie that'd eventually draw her to tears in her bedroom, or, she could grow a pair of balls, dress all slutty and party like the reckless teenager she was _supposed_ to be.

She knew it wouldn’t be as bad as Remington. The majority of the people at Heather’s party would be high schoolers, and that put Veronica at ease a little more. Sure, Kurt and Ram were still gonna be there acting like grade-A _assholes,_ but they were too stupid to _seriously_ harm anyone. Not like college guys. College guys were smart. They had years of experience. They knew how to manipulate young girls. Heather Chandler was smart too, but not smart enough to not fall for the older guys’ games.

The brunette was snapped out of her spiralling by the bell, signalling the end of lunch. She had study hall for the rest of the day, which was _bearable._ Study hall took minimal effort, and Veronica was _tired._

”This is one of the only classes we don't have together,” she heard Lydia say to Wednesday, ”I have study hall but you have double-art. Damn, I wish we were in the same art class. Do you want me to send a request to the school board to alter your timetable-”

”It is okay, Lydia,” Wednesday chuckled slightly, though her laugh was just a dramatised breath, ”Enjoy study hall. I shall show you my artwork this evening. It'll be a _surprise.”_

Lydia’s frown curled up into a bashful smile, ”Alright. I can't wait.”

”Nor can I,” Wednesday replied, before grabbing her bag and following Martha to the art department.

Veronica watched as Lydia’s eyes followed Wednesday out the hall, only moving away when she had left the lunchroom.

“You gonna walk to study hall with me or what?” the brunette spoke up, snapping the inky haired girl out of her lovesick daze.

“Oh, yeah, sorry!”

“It’s alright.”

They walked to study hall, gossiping and cracking jokes, avoiding the elephant in the room - the elephant being a short girl with long black plaits and skin fair as spring clouds. It wasn’t until they were sat in study hall with their textbooks splayed across the desk did Veronica address it.

“You’re whipped, Deetz,” she snorted.

“Hm?” Lydia didn't understand what she meant (even though she really did, she was just too afraid to admit it.)

“Ouch, you like Wednesday Addams. Your eyes practically fall out of their sockets when you look at her.”

“I-“

“-There’s really no point in trying to deny it - not like there’s really nothing wrong with it! In fact, it’s cute as shit. I’m rooting for you!”

Lydia scrunched her face up and buried it into Veronica’s neck.

“Am I really that obvious?” she mumbled.

“I don’t know if other people would notice how much your face lights up when you look at her, but I do.” the brunette raised her hand up to Lydia’s hair, running her fingers through the soft curls in a motherly way.

“Do you think I have a chance with her?” Lydia asked nervously, pulling away to look at her friends face. 

“Is the grass green?” Veronica smiled wide, and Lydia mirrored it instantly, “You two are the definition of akin spirits. I’d go so far as to say that you two could be potential soulmates. Do you believe in those?”

“Yeah. I think I do,” she nodded, biting her lip gently, “Do you think you have a soulmate in the school?”

“I used to think so when I was in elementary, yeah, but I don’t think so anymore. There’s over five billion people on this planet, and I don’t think that my soulmate is one of the one thousand two hundred assholes at Westerburg.”

“Imagine if one of our soulmates was a _Heather,”_ Lydia joked.

“Imagine,” she echoed, her mind trailing off into oblivion.

.

The end of the day came quick, and the sky had already begun to darken. November nights meant the sky was pitch black by as early as 7 pm. Wednesday sat herself down on the bottom step leading up to the school, waiting for Lydia whilst watching the sunset. 

She had surprised herself over the past few days. She wasn’t expecting the social aspect of high school to go well for her, thinking that she would focus on her studies and not talk to anyone, but now she was in a friend group with four likeable people.

_“Boo!”_ a voice behind startled her slightly, but when she saw those plump purple lips smile down at her, she knew exactly who it was, “You ready to motor?” Lydia asked.

“Yes. Art class was marginally enjoyable. I will show you my creations when we reach your place,” Wednesday said, taking Lydia’s hand and allowing the latter to pull her up.

”I’m looking forward to it!” the shorter girl beamed, turning round and making her out the school gates. Wednesday followed close behind. The Deetz’s house wasn’t far from the school, though Lydia preferred to be driven by J.D. Unfortunately he was unable to drive the two of them home that specific day, “I do warn you, my uncle lives with me and he’s kinda nuts. He’s really cool though.”

“What’s his name?”

“Well, he’s actually called Lawrence, but everyone calls him Beetlejuice. God knows why but it stuck. I just call him Beetlejuice or Bj. Him and I are pretty close.”

“He sounds very interesting,” Wednesday chuckled.

“He is. What about your family?” Lydia decided to test the waters. Part of her worried that perhaps Wednesday hadn’t mentioned her family for a reason.

“My family and I are very close, actually. Well, _our_ interpretation of close. My brother Pugsley and I tell one another everything, and my parents are very honest with the two of us. Because we are a rather _different_ family, we stick together, since other people tend to avoid us,” she explained.

“I don’t get people’s issue with differences.” the shorter girl shook her head, “I think that differences are beautiful.”

There was silence for a while. Comfortable silence. The kind that made you breathe through your nostrils and reflect on the beauties of life. The kind that was so silent, it almost felt like a beautiful melody. 

Lydia led Wednesday up a slight ramp, towards her large suburban home. Its creamy color brightened up the dark sky ever so slightly. There was a small veranda filled with overgrown plants that crawled their way up the side of the house. Lydia jogged up the wooden steps that lead to the red front door, ushering Wednesday to follow.

When the taller girl entered, she did a brief 360 of her surroundings, taking in the black and white striped walls and obscurely-shaped furniture.

“This,” she began, walking over to a large black and white striped couch in the shape of a claw, “I like this.”

“Me too,” Lydia giggled, approaching Wednesday from behind, “It’s my favourite piece of furniture in the house; after Beetlejuice’s sculpture upstairs.”

“Sculpture?”

“Yes, let me show you. We need to be quiet though, or else Beetlejuice will find us and he won’t leave us alone.”

Lydia pulled Wednesday by the hand up multiple sets of stairs until they reached the creakiest, most narrow set of stairs. Lydia reached into the top of her dress, pulling out a small key.

“Only Beetlejuice and I have a key to up here. Dad and Delia would just medel with it if they had access,” she stated as she unlocked the oak door. She pushed it open gently, a few specs dust flying into her hair as they entered the room. She took Wednesday’s hand once again, leading her in, buzzing with unexplainable excitement and adrenaline, “Here it is…”

Wednesday walked over to it, awestruck. It was a large minuscule model of the town. On one side she saw the school with the woods out the back, the 7-11 down the block, her street and even her house. As much as she tried to disguise it, a blush and a smile crept its way onto her pale face.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” said Lydia, walking to where her friend was stood.”

“Yes, extremely.”

“Watch this…” she walked over to the light switch by the door, flicking off the room’s main sources of light, before padding back towards the model, pushing a button that lit up every little window and street lamp in the mini-town, as well as overhead fairy lights that Lydia had hung there for decoration.

The little white lights were reflected in Wednesday’s dark eyes, and although Lydia always admired the beauty of Beetlejuice’s sculpture, this time she couldn’t take her eyes off her friend. She got away with it for a few moments, but soon enough, Wednesday caught her stare.

“I think that this sculpture isn’t the only beautiful thing in this room,” Wednesday said shakily, turning her body slightly to face the shorter girl, “I think that you are also one of the most beautiful specimens I have ever laid my eyes on.”

Lydia’s eyes widened at Wednesday’s words, lips parting with a gentle pop as she found herself slowly leaning in - so slow it was almost unnoticeable.

The taller girl’s eyes were dark and blown out as she moved her gaze from Lydia’s eyes to her plump lips that she hadn’t been able to erase from her mind over the past few days.

“Would you give me permission to touch your lips with my own?” Wednesday nervously inquired, reaching her hand out to grip the edge of the sculpture due to the abrupt weakening of her knees.

“If I knew you had to ask, I would’ve given you permission the second I laid eyes on y-” Lydia couldn’t finish her cheesy sentence, because Wednesday’s steady hands found her hips and tugged her closer, connecting their lips so _tenderly,_ it was as if their hearts begin to beat in sync with one another. 

Wednesday’s lips were surprisingly soft yet strong, pressing Lydia’s back against the edge of the sculpture firmly. It took a few seconds, but they soon found a rhythm, and in that time Lydia raised her hands up to Wednesday’s hair, messing up her braids just a little with each pull.

Lydia felt her entire body come alive as the other girl’s soft hands rubbed up and down her slender hips, prying her lips apart and pressing her tongue into Lydia’s mouth _just_ so they could be as close as humanly possible.

The electricity died down eventually, and Wednesday pulled away, a small trail of saliva keeping them connected for a brief second. They were panting as if they had just been brought back to life, chests rising and falling whilst pressed against one another. Neither of them could restrain the bashful grins tugging on their lips.

“I would love to do that again, and again,” Lydia breathed, reaching up to touch her lips slightly, almost to reassure herself that _that really just happened._

“You have an open invitation,” Wednesday responded smugly, leaning in once again.

They stayed like that for the remainder of the afternoon, eventually toppling onto the bean bag, bodies intertwined. They didn’t go further than a heated make out session - that was for another day. Wednesday wanted to give Lydia something to look forward to.

By 7 pm, they had made themselves comfortable in Lydia’s bedroom, Wednesday curiously admiring every nook and cranny as if each object were a museum artifact.

“You never showed me your artwork,” Lydia said suddenly, watching Wednesday explore her room from her bed.

“Here,” Wednesday reached for her school bag, pushing it into Lydia’s lap and waiting for the latter to unzip it, “My art book is the red one.”

“Found it.” Lydia gently tossed the bag aside, placing the red leather-covered book in her lap so carefully, it was as if she were handling a newborn child. 

Wednesday watched with her teeth tugging on her lower lip as Lydia slowly made her way through the many sketches and doodles scribbled onto the white pages. 

It wasn’t long until she reached the drawings of herself. 

Lydia stopped in her tracks, trailing her fingers over the first sketch in awe.

_”Pretty girl in the wind,”_ she uttered to herself, her eyes glassy, ”Is that me… On the swing?”

”Yes.”

”And is that you pushing me?”

”Indeed.”

“It’s beautiful.” A single tear trickled down Lydia’s cheek, ”My mom used to push me on a little rope swing when I was younger in our backyard. I would do anything to have her do that again.”

”Why can't you? Simply make a new rope swing?” Wednesday questioned, tilting her head to the side. She watched Lydia crumple up like paper in front of her, flopping down on the bed.

”My mom. She passed away just over six months ago now. She was my _everything._ My _whole life._ I miss her so _fucking_ much,” she wept, and Wednesday was quick to flop down on the bed beside her, reaching forward and wiping the tears away as they fell.

Wednesday knew that nothing she said could possibly stop the pain Lydia felt, so she just wrapped her arms around her in hope that she could calm her down and put her at ease.

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me here, Wednesday. Thank you,” Lydia sniffled, her words slightly muffled against Wednesday’s neck. She pulled away slightly so her and Wednesday were face-to-face, noses brushing slightly, “I haven't really _felt_ anything since I lost my mom. I was numb, but now with you, I feel _so much.”_

“Me too,” Wednesday whispered, closing her eyes and breathing in Lydia’s rosy scent, “But I had never felt _anything_ before, _ever._ I didn’t know emotions until you touched me, Lydia. I had never really smiled until I saw you…”

_“God,_ aren't we cheesy?” Lydia chortled, wiping her slightly runny nose on her lacy sleeve, “You wanna go grab some dinner?”

“That sounds nice. What are we having?”

“Whatever Beetlejuice hasn’t eaten.”

“I’m yet to meet this gentleman.”

“Oh, you will.”

They made their way downstairs, hand-in-hand like a real couple - _were they a couple?_ Lydia was unsure. Either way, whatever they were, it felt _right._

_“Hey Lydia, is that you?”_ a scratchy voice came from the kitchen, “It is you!” the voice exclaimed when Lydia entered, followed by Wednesday, “Ooh, who’s your friend?”

“Beetlejuice, this is Wednesday,” Lydia smiled, wrapping her arm around Wednesday’s waist.

“Good evening, Mr Beetlejuice. It is a pleasure to meet you,” Wednesday said monotonously.

“Were you two doing each other’s makeup? Lydia, I thought you said makeovers were for _babies?”_ Beetlejuice laughed, folding his arms over his podgy stomach. He was quite a sight, with messy green hair, a green beard to match and a striped suit that blended in with the surrounding walls.

”No, we weren't doing one another’s makeup. Where on earth did you get that from?” Lydia rolled her eyes playfully.

”Well, Wednesday’s got your lipstick shade all over her lips- Wait a minute... Holy _crap!_ You two were _kissing!”_ he exclaimed, clapping his hands gleefully.

Wednesday was just as confused as she was amused, watching Beetlejuice do a little happy-tap-dance in front of her. 

“We were _not_ kissing,” Lydia hissed.

“Yes we were?” Wednesday said, turning to the shorter girl. Lydia’s face reddened.

_“Knew it!_ So are you two dating?”

“I um-“ Lydia stumbled, afraid to respond. She turned to Wednesday, reading her expression in search for an answer, “Are we?”

“Of course we are,” Wednesday smirked, planting a soft kiss onto Lydia’s cheek. It was a rather romantic gesture for her. Never had she been such a _flirt_ \- but she enjoyed it. 

_“Awesome!_ Now, do you ladies want me to make you dinner or what?” Beetlejuice offered, instantly being shut down by Lydia.

“Yeah, no thanks. Not after _last time.”_ Wednesday didn’t dare ask what _’last time’_ suggested. “I’ll just order pizza,” Lydia said, skipping over to the phone and dialing the local Italian restaurant’s number that she had embarrassingly memorised.

They ordered one extra large vegetable pizza as well as a box of garlic bread, and it arrived in just over an hour. They decided to eat it in the attic amongst the warmth of the fairy lights.

“That girl, Heather, who invited us to her birthday celebration at lunch, who is she and why was everyone so afraid of her?” Wednesday asked, taking a sip of the soda pop that Lydia had kindly fixed her.

“Heather Chandler? Her nickname is the _Demon Queen of Westerburg._ She’s queen bee of this little trio called _the Heathers,_ and she’s the nastiest bitch in Ohio, but like… not really.”

“How so?”

“Well, she’s terrorized our group of friends for _years_ before I even came to Westerburg. Veronica and Heather were best friends like seven years ago, but then one day Heather just never spoke to her again. However, recently she inducted Veronica into the Heathers for whatever reason. _Then_ Heather invited Veronica as her plus one to this _huge_ college party, Veronica accidentally threw up on her shoes, Heather _kissed her,_ pulled away, accused Veronica of being the one to initiate the kiss, threatened to ruin her life, kicked her out the Heathers and then, for some bizarre reason, invited all us outcasts to her party.”

“Hm. That _is_ bizarre.”

.

“Are you crazy?” Heather Duke spat, pacing Heather Chandler’s bedroom floor, “Why would you invite Veronica and her squad of _losers_ to your party? They’ll ruin it!”

“I think Veronica is cool but I’m not so sure about her friends, Heather,” McNamara interjected worryingly, staring at Chandler who was lying across her bed, hardly tuning in to Duke ramble on in front of her.

_“Don’t_ question me. I have my reasons,” she grumbled, squinting her eyes at Duke.

“Like what? You wanna fuck her?” the green girl laughed, regretting it instantly afterwards.

“Shut up Heather. Leave me the _fuck_ alone,” she snapped, her face turning scarlet with rage, “In fact, just _leave._ Go _home._ Both of you. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Heather, let’s go,” Mac mumbled fearfully, making her way to the door, ushering Duke to follow.

_“Fine.”_

The two of them left even _more_ confused.

And once Heather heard the slam of her front door, she just _cried._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would appreciate if u left a comment cause even though i do this for my _own_ satisfaction, it’s a little disappointing to never receive any feedback. i appreciate anything, even if it’s just a sentence or two. :)
> 
> also, quick disclaimer, the chansaw will be in full swing NEXT chapter, i just actually had to try doing a slow burn for once, cause normally i never last more than 3 chapters.
> 
> hope u enjoyed !


	6. relentless adolescents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica and friends attend Heather Chandler’s birthday party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! trigger warning !!!  
> d slur & sexual assault (groping & nothing more) also lowkey roofie-ing if that’s a word yup :)
> 
> yea yea yea i finally updated ,, sorry for taking 827374845884 years. writers block was a little shit and also my mental health was in a really bad place. i had a pretty big operation yesterday and being in a hospital bed somewhat gave me a lot of inspo which was _just_ enough to finish this!!

Parties weren't something Veronica had much experience in, but from the few that she had dabbled in, she decided that she did _not_ enjoy them.

The first real party she attended was her aunt and uncle’s New Year’s party in 1983. She was 12 years old and delighted to be allowed to stay up beyond midnight. She bought herself some pretty denim bell-bottom jeans for the occasion and she forced her mom to slave over her hair for at least an hour just so she could feel _beautiful._ Her mom and dad forced her to walk to the party, merely because they wanted to drink recklessly. 

Veronica had expected people to be bouncing up and down to loud music, the bass pounding in their ears like they were under some spell. Sadly, that wasn’t the case. Everyone was sipping champagne and pretending to be someone or something they weren't. 

Whilst everyone else chanted the countdown to the bells of the new year and began to tunelessly sing _Auld Lang Syne,_ some 17-year-old guy tried to snake his hand into Veronica’s blouse, and she felt sick.

She didn’t attend another party for a while after that, until 1987 when J.D dragged her to a secret LGBTQ+ nightclub which was predominantly filled with gay men who had _zero_ respect for women. She felt out of place. There wasn’t a woman in sight, aside from the middle-aged bartender who seemed occupied serving drinks to tipsy guys. 

She didn’t have a drop of alcohol the whole night out of fear, and she ended up asking J.D if they could leave after only 2 hours. 

That was the final party until Remington just the week before, and we all know how _that_ turned out.

It wasn’t until Veronica was vigorously spraying hairspray onto her curls did she realize that Heather Chandler’s remarkable plan to destroy the former’s social status might possibly take place at her birthday party.

“Everything okay babes?” asked J.D, squeezing the girl’s shoulders and staring at her in the mirror, “You look really pretty.”

“Thanks, but I’m just not really cut out for the party scene. I don’t have a very good track record,” she sighed, leaning into his touch. 

“Heather Chandler practically lives in a castle. If it all becomes too much, there’s _bound_ to be an empty room you can unravel somewhere. We can set a time and a meeting point when it gets late, alright?” 

“You’re not gonna stay with me?” she brought her fingernail to her lips and chewed down on it nervously.

“Not the whole time, no, but I’m sure Lydia and Wednesday will stick with you! And Martha!”

“Lydia and Wednesday? They’ll be too busy staring at one another to notice me, and Martha’s curfew is like _10 pm_ and that's when the party starts. If it gets too much for me then I’ll walk home.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” J.D frowned, caressing the girl’s face tenderly.

“Not really but, as Martha said, we should be experiencing things,” Veronica cracked a smile, “But I don’t know what to wear…”

J.D immediately made a run for her closet, picking out a fashionable outfit and tossing it towards Veronica.

The brunette grimaced at the tiny black bralette he had chosen, _"God,_ this makes my tits look non-existent.”

“Who gives a fuck? You are basically like a _sexier_ version of Molly Ringwald.”

“Thanks?”

She pulled the blue skirt he chose up her legs before pulling her casual leggings down and replacing them with some black tights for warmth. She hesitantly pulled the bralette over her shoulders and onto her chest before turning to see what it looked like in the mirror.

“Yeah I- uh, I actually don’t mind this,” she mumbled, grabbing her grey blazer from the back of her door.

“I told you: _Sexy!”_

“I still don’t know why I take fashion advice from you when all you ever wear are trench coats and that damn grey vest.”

“Piss off!”

 _“Piss off!”_ Veronica repeated, terribly mocking his London accent.

They talked for a little while before realizing that it was already 10, meaning the party must’ve just started, however, they were going to wait about forty-five minutes because J.D didn’t want to seem ‘desperate’ - whatever that was supposed to mean.

J.D hopped into the bathroom for a quick shower and Veronica lay down for a nap whilst she waited. This was going to be a long night, after all. She dozed off surprisingly fast, her mind travelling to a fantastical dreamland...

_“So, you losers decided to show up, huh?” Duke sneered after the group of them caught her sharp gaze._

_“Yeah, so where’s the booze?” J.D responded, seeming unphased by her snarky comment._

_“Kurt and Ram seem to have set up a mini-bar in the 2nd-floor bathroom, so go help yourself, but I gotta talk to Ronnie for a sec,” she sounded sickeningly sweet - very much out of character for her._

_Veronica was confused as to what Duke would want. The brunette took a look behind her to see what her friends had to say about all this, but they were completely out of sight. She flipped back round in Duke’s direction and was met with all three Heathers right in front of her, arms folded and expressions stern. Heather Chandler stood dead centre._

_“Well,” she smacked her lips, “I really didn’t think you would come.”_

_Veronica stood still, her legs weakening as she tried to conjure up coherent speech, “Yeah, uh, here I am.”_

_“Here’s your apron, and McNamara will show you to the kitchen…” Chandler smiled sinisterly, pushing a beige food-covered apron into Veronica’s chest._

_“Wh- apron? Why?” the brunette stood there, as confused as a swan in dishwater._

_“To waitress, of course.”_

_“Huh?”_

_Duke cut in, “You didn’t think you were actually invited, did you?”_

_Veronica’s eyes turned glassy. She tried to stop the tears before anyone noticed, but it was too late._

_“Oh my god, she totally did!” Mac burst into fits of laughter, and the other two did the same._

_Suddenly, all the surrounding party guests turned to her and also began to laugh at her, until every single person in the building was mocking her, including her own friends._

“Christ V, you were whimpering. Is everything okay?” Veronica’s eyes snapped open and found J.D wrapped in a towel, watching her with a concerned look. She scanned her surroundings and couldn’t see a Heather in sight. It was then that she realized she was still in her bedroom and it had all been a dream. Or a nightmare, to be more specific.

“Yeah I- I dozed off and had a nightmare, that’s all,” she replied, noticing her heartbeat had quickened significantly during her nap.

“I’ll just put my clothes on and we’ll be ready to go,” he smiled warmly, grabbing his black jeans and white button-up before returning to the bathroom for some privacy.

 _Perhaps that nightmare was a sign telling me not to go to the party,_ thought Veronica.

She wasn’t going to let some stupid bag of neurons spoil her night, though. J.D re-entered the room fully-clothed and in the middle of putting on his paperclip earrings.

“You ready to rock n’ roll?” he grinned.

 _“God_ you sound like my dad,” she groaned, “Do you wanna wear my platforms?”

“I’d love to, but I’m not quite ready for that yet.”

“Alright.”

They exited out the back door, padding towards J.D’s car on the back lane. They were going to park a block away, drink and pick the car up in the morning once they had sobered up.

J.D slotted the key into the ignition, and so it began.

.

_**10:39, Heather** _

Everything seemed to be moving perfectly so far. Heather had managed to kick her parents out of the house since they were far too terrified of her to object. 

She had only had two drinks so far due to the earliness of the evening. People were still arriving in clumps, many pre-drunk and others sober to the point of disenjoyment. Heather didn’t care about them, though. This was _her_ birthday party and if people weren’t enjoying themselves then they could go home.

She was currently standing with Courtney, pretending to listen whilst the girl talked about her plans to move to Los Angeles to study fashion. The blonde just nodded and pretended to sip from her red cup. She took the opportunity to leave after spotting McNamara hanging around by the door.

“I’ll be right back,” she smiled falsely before strutting over to the yellow-clad girl. 

“How’s the birthday girl?” McNamara grinned, hugging Heather briefly. The taller girl tensed under the unfamiliar contact, so McNamara quickly pulled away.

“I’m good, just waiting for the alcohol to kick in,” she winked, “Anyways, Heather… Have you maybe, uh, seen Veronica and friends arrive yet?”

“I don’t think so. I think you’ll be able to tell when they arrive by everyone’s reactions. I’ll keep a lookout for ya, though.”

“Thanks, girl.”

.

_**10:45, Veronica** _

J.D helped Veronica out the car, pulling her onto the sidewalk that would eventually lead to the Chandler mansion. The party’s music could be heard from down the street, but the Chandlers practically owned the Ohio police department, so the likelihood of the party being shut down or cops being called was slim.

The two of them didn’t talk as they walked towards the house. All the words were unspoken. Both of them were painfully nervous and both of them were trying to mask their nerves.

Once they reached Heather’s driveway, J.D spoke up, “Is that Lydia and Wednesday by the garage?”

Veronica squinted her eyes and looked in the direction he was looking, “Yeah, I think it is…” she called the girls’ names and watched as their heads shot up, both of them smiling sheepishly.

“Martha bailed,” Lydia sighed as J.D and Veronica made their way towards her and Wednesday, “We’ve just been here smoking weed and waiting for you to come.”

J.D’s eyes widened, “That’s weed?”

“Sure is! Wanna hit?”

“I’ll pass for now.”

“How come Martha bailed?” Veronica frowned.

“She didn’t exactly _bail._ It was more like; her father found out she was coming and forced her to stay home. A shame,” Wednesday spoke up, blowing smoke rings into the air and impressing everyone around her, “Shall we go inside?”

“I uh- yeah,” Lydia stumbled, face flushing red under a layer of makeup.

Veronica smirked and followed the group as they pushed open large wooden doors that led into a ginormous glass foyer filled with tipsy high schoolers and a few college kids too.

“Damn. This is nicer than the _Sistine Chapel,”_ J.D gaped, grabbing the first bottle of alcohol in sight, which happened to be some expensive-looking light beer.

“You’re a satanist, J.D. _Everything_ is nicer than the Sistine Chapel to you,” Veronica snorted, trying her best to ignore the cold stares she was earning from fellow classmates. Part of her wanted to believe that it was all in her head, but she knew it wasn’t.

 _“Isn’t that the dyke one? Who invited her?”_ — she heard someone whisper.

Whatever. Who cares? Unlike _some_ people at the party, she actually _was_ invited. Sure, Heather may have had ulterior motives, but an invite is an invite.

“Apparently people are doing Jell-O shots by the pool, so if you need us, we’ll be there,” Lydia chuckled, grabbing Wednesday’s arm and dragging her out to the backyard.

Veronica decided that she’d only have two drinks that night. Last time she drank more than she could handle, she threw up on Heather Chandler’s shoes. She was not about to throw up in Heather Chandler’s house, so she made sure to watch what she was consuming. 

“You alright, V?” J.D asked, placing a fingerless-gloved hand on her shoulder.

“I’m just _great.”_

.

_**10:45, Heather** _

_“You’re a satanist, J.D. Everything is nicer than the Sistine Chapel to you.”_

Heather’s head instantly shot to the direction of the voice that she had immediately recognised. She saw Veronica, J.D, Lydia and that new girl called _Friday_ or something standing in the foyer, all of them admiring their surroundings.

“Heather!” she heard McNamara yell in her ear, snapping her head back around so she was facing away from the door, “Veronica has arrived.”

Heather rolled her eyes, “Yes. I’ve seen her.”

“Why did you wanna know if she was here?”

“Just _because.”_

Heather decided that now was the time to have another drink. She made her way to the kitchen, accidentally brushing her shoulder against Lydia and _Tuesday_ as they passed through to the backyard. She was going to say something - yell, perhaps - but then she saw a smile on Lydia’s lips that she had never seen before, and let it go.

“Hey Heather!” a voice called from the kitchen. When Heather entered, she saw some random guy kissing between Duke’s thighs whilst she was sat up on the counter. 

“Sure you want me to interrupt?” Chandler snorted, holding her hand over her mouth to prevent her condescendingly loud laughter that she was very insecure about.

“Let’s do body-shots off my playmate here!” Duke smirked, pushing the guy away from her and cupping the side of his face, “You wanna lay down for me, Papi?”

_Papi? Christ._

The guy nodded, drool practically spilling from his mouth as he lay his back down on the laminate floor.

Duke set everything up before forcing Heather’s hands behind her back.

Heather leaned down and took the shot as quickly as she could without choking. She hesitantly placed her mouth on the lime, wincing when her lips brushed against the random boy’s. She began to lick down his neck, the tip of her tongue buzzing with the salty sensation.

She could hear whistles and catcalls from surrounding people as she pulled back, wiping her mouth on her scarlet sleeve. 

.

_**10:57, Veronica** _

J.D was already on his second bottle of whatever the fuck he was drinking by the time they had made there way out of the foye.

Veronica watched the boy curiously whilst he looked across the room with a smirk on his face.

“Am I nuts or is that guy checking me out?” he mumbled into Veronica’s ear, nudging her slightly.

“I mean, I don’t pick up any kind of signals so don’t ask me…” she chuckled nervously, silently praying that the guy wasn’t checking out J.D so he would stay by her. Unfortunately for her, that wasn’t the case.

She discreetly stared at the boy that was supposedly checking her friend out. He had dark skin and a sinister grin, tilting his head back to gesture J.D towards him.

J.D looked to his friend guiltily, “Listen V, I don’t mean to leave you so early but-” 

“-Chill, dude. It’s whatever. He’s handsome. Go get him.”

J.D smiled thankfully in response before inevitably gliding across the marble floor towards the man, being dragged into a closet under the Chandlers' large red-carpeted staircase swiftly as possible to prevent being noticed.

Veronica sighed, the loneliness hitting her all at once. It was dangerous to be alone at parties, especially one as big as a Heathers’ birthday party - _specifically_ Heather Chandler’s.

She looked around, hoping to see at least a few familiar faces. She could always go to the backyard to find Lydia and Wednesday, but she could hear Kurt and Ram from inside and the last thing she wanted to do was face them when she was supposed to be enjoying herself.

After wandering around like a lost puppy for a good ten minutes, she found herself stood by the entrance to the kitchen. She could hear the clinking of shot glasses from behind the door, though she decided to enter anyway.

“Hey Sawyer!” a voice came immediately as she stepped inside. It was Heather Duke - she knew that venomous voice anywhere. “Wanna come do body shots off my boy-toy or are you too much of a pussy dyke?”

Veronica’s mouth went dry as she slowly approached the green girl, quickly noticing there was a shirtless man on the floor who was most definitely not a high schooler. After gaping for a little while longer, she also noticed Heather Chandler standing there in all her birthday-girl glory. The blonde was leaning into Duke’s ear, whispering something inaudible to Veronica. Once she pulled back, Veronica gained the confidence to speak.

“I, uhm- happy birthday, Heather… Chandler,” she stuttered, picking on her fingernails behind her back as a way of punishing herself for being unable to function like a human teenager. Heather was wearing _black._ Well, she wore a black asymmetrical shirt and a red skirt. 

“Cat got your tongue, Ronnie?” she smirked before looking down at the man on the floor who remained laid down, waiting for some action.

“Are you gonna take the shot or not?” Duke cut in.

“Yeah! I mean, yep, sure.”

The Korean sneered, grabbing a bottle of some overpriced alcohol and pouring it into a plastic blue-tinted shot glass.

Veronica watch Chandler march over and try to intervene with whatever it was that Duke was pouring into the glass, but the latter just sneered, uttered something and handed the glass to Veronica.

“You know the drill, right? Lean down, take the shot, grab the lime from his mouth with your teeth and then lick all the salt off him,” McNamara explained, suddenly popping up behind them and acting like she had been there the whole time,

Veronica nodded, clenching her jaw anxiously as she got down on her knees. She felt her skirt ride up slightly, trying to ignore it as she took the shot of bitter-tasting alcohol. Duke took the glass from her before gesturing her down to the guy's mouth. His eyes sparkled with desperation, making Veronica feel almost sorry for him. She exhaled and leaned down towards his mouth, letting her teeth sink into the sour lime. Her face screwed up at the taste, but she still managed to pull back and lick down his neck. She had never felt so unsexy as she did right then, licking down his body like some kind of rabid dog.

“How was that?” Veronica asked, wiping her mouth of dripping like-juice as she pulled back.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” Heather said nonchalantly, checking her nails which were _obviously_ painted red.

The strawberry blonde was being surprisingly tame compared to her usual antics. She hadn’t called Veronica a slur and she was yet to expose her for _‘kissing her.’_

.

_**11:05, Heather** _

“Hey _Sawyer!”_ Duke shouted across the room, catching Heather off guard. “Wanna come do body shots off my boy-toy or are you too much of a _pussy dyke?”_

Heather’s eyes shot up, catching a good glimpse of Veronica. The kitchen’s red lighting hit the cold colours of her outfit beautifully, framing her as some half-angel, half-devil entity.

Suddenly, Heather recalled what Veronica said that night in her room before the Remington party:

 _“The word ‘dyke.’ You and Duke use it a lot but it’s really damaging. And I know you like to make fun of people, but that word is one that you just… you shouldn’t use it, ”_ is what the brunette had said with tears in her eyes.

Heather felt remorseful after remembering she had blurted it in the lane that same night, right after pulling away from the best kiss of her life. 

Heather walked over to Duke and whispered in her ear, “Don’t call her that. It _empowers_ her which we can’t have happening.”

“You’re right,” Duke replied, just quiet enough so Veronica couldn’t hear it from where she stood, just over two metres away.

Heather strutted back to where she stood before, giving Veronica a once-over. She noticed how she had a little shake in her legs and how her teeth were pulling on her lower lip gently.

The strawberry blonde just about had a brain aneurysm when Veronica wished her happy birthday in the cutest little cracked voice.

Part of her wanted to assure Veronica that she didn’t need to shake, for there was nothing to be afraid of, however, the other part of her felt everyone’s eyes on her, _the birthday girl,_ and slipping out of character was too dangerous.

“Cat got your tongue, Ronnie?” she asked condescendingly, hoping it would convince Duke and others around her that she wasn’t a softie for the girl in front of her, Heather then moved her gaze down to the male body at her feet, stifling a grimace at the unnaturally prominent veins all over his biceps. 

She heard Duke say something to Veronica, but she was too busy thinking about how the latter was about to lick salt off the exact same spot she had licked herself just minutes prior.

Her head whipped up at the sound of a glass clinking, and Heather instantly caught Duke pouring Cocoroco into a shot glass - Cocoroco infamously being the second strongest alcoholic drink in the world and tasting like thinned down acrylic paint. The strawberry blonde’s eyes widened, trying to remove the alcohol from Duke’s grasp.

“Are you trying to give her alcohol poisoning?” she hissed, “Her tolerance is _low_ \- I would know that… she puked on my _goddamn_ shoes. Drain that.”

“It’s just a bit of fun, Heather,” she sneered before pushing the glass in Veronica’s direction.

McNamara suddenly popped out of nowhere like a fucking ghost and explained the process to Veronica, all while Heather’s heart began to speed up.

The brunette got down on her knees and Heather noticed she was shaking slightly. She took the shot surprisingly fast before leaning down to reach the lime.

Heather’s mind felt hazy at the sight of Veronica’s blue skirt riding up her porcelain legs. The brunette’s choice of outfit was _provoking,_ to say the least. The way her black bralette contrasted against her pale skin made every guy around them swoon.

She noticed the discomfort in Veronica’s eyes as she licked the salty substance off unfamiliar tan skin. By this point, Heather could cry. 

“How was that?” Veronica asked once she had completed the task. Her voice cracked slightly, and the look in her eyes was worrisome.

Instead of grabbing the lapels of her grey blazer and pulling her in for a delicate kiss, she simply sighed and said, “Not bad for a first-timer.”

Veronica nodded, not giving a response, before J.D burst into the kitchen, noticed the situation his friend was in and aggressively yanked her out the door, making a beeline for the backyard.

The blonde knew that she’d have to keep an eye on the girl. Duke gave her a dangerously high alcoholic drink that could result in Veronica doing something she’d regret.

 _Christ,_ Heather was in her own home for once, yet she had never felt so out of place.

.

_**11:27, Veronica** _

J.D and Veronica had talked for ten minutes, before he went back into the closet with the same guy from earlier, leaving the brunette to wander around some more. It took her a while, but she finally found her friends.

“Hey gals!” Veronica exclaimed across the backyard after spotting Lydia and Wednesday giggling together on an outdoor swinging bench, sat adjacent to the sparkling blue pool. The swing was held up between two large oak trees, one seemingly having the remains of an old treehouse amongst its branches.

“Veronica, come sit,” Wednesday said monotonously, unexpectedly pulling Lydia into her lap to make space for the brunette. Lydia yelped with surprise, her blood flowing up to the surface of her skin and causing a little red tint to appear on her face.

“People are gonna see us, Weds,” she whispered, raising her thumb to her lip to chew on nervously, “It’s dangerous.”

“I believe the majority of people are too intoxicated to even notice - Veronica included,” Wednesday smirked in response, drawing her thumb over Lydia’s flushed cheek.

“You said my name?” slurred Veronica, finally sitting herself down and causing the swing to aggressively swing backwards, “Whoopsies!” she chuckled.

The alcohol was evidently beginning to coarse it’s way through her body. 

Lydia turned to her girlfriend, raising an eyebrow, before looking back to her best friend, “What have you had to drink, V? What happened to only having two cups?”

“I _literally_ only had one body shot,” she groaned, playfully turning away and putting her hand in front of Lydia’s face.

“Of what? Drano?” Wednesday said, pushing the girl’s hand away.

“You guys are so _mean!_ I’m going to the living room where people are _actually_ dancing.”

She flipped both girls off before dance-walking towards the house, slipping through the back door and making her way to the living room. She distinctly remembered her way around the house from when she was a kid after spending countless afternoons there with Heather when they were in Kindergarten. 

When she turned the brass door handle that opened the door to the living room, she immediately saw Kurt and Ram aggressively bobbing their heads to _Blue Monday_ by New Order. They looked like circus clowns, but the surrounding crowd of tipsy teens cheered them on nonetheless.

“Hey Ram, look who it is…” Kurt said, stopping his dancing abruptly to nudge his friend.

Ram turned his head slowly, grinning wide when he saw the brunette timidly standing by the doorframe.

“Hey Ronica,” he purred, “Wanna join our dance party?”

Sensible, sober Veronica would’ve darted for the door, left immediately and start to run down the street at full speed, but intoxicated Veronica mirrored the boys’ sinister grins and nodded, allowing herself to be pulled in to the circle.

Blue Monday soon faded into Desire by U2, and Veronica was soon pressed tight between Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney, struggling to breathe.

She felt them harden against her thighs, almost eliciting a gag from her throat. She wanted _out,_ but the alcohol made her insanely woozy and it felt as if the door had disappeared.

As time when on, the crowd’s cheering seemed to get louder - as did the music. Veronica silently thanked the gods above for making her dislike U2 because after tonight she’d _never_ be able to listen to them again.

.

**_11:47, Heather_ **

Heather heard blasting music from the living room, promptly deciding to enter and see what all the fuss was about. 

Her heart fell when she saw what was unfolding in front of her.

Veronica was tightly compressed in a jock-sandwich, and the frightened look on her face told the strawberry blonde that she would rather be anywhere else but there. 

Heather drew the line when Kurt let his hand drift under Veronica’s blue skirt, making an attempt to tug her tights and panties off.

Veronica _screamed_ and honest to god, it was the worst sound Heather had ever heard.

“Get off of her _now!”_ Heather seethed, storming over to the two boys and making an attempt to push them off the brunette.

“Don’t you wanna join us, babe?” Ram snorted, grabbing Heathers hand.

Heather hastily yanked it away, shooting him a furious gaze as she reached for Veronica’s trembling hands.

It was then that she realized the girl was blacked out.

She wanted to scream and drop her, but who knows what Kurt and Ram would do if she left her there.

Heather decidedly pulled her into a fireman’s lift, leaving the living room and making her way upstairs, towards her bedroom.

Thankfully everyone had listened when Heather said that the top two floors were out of bounds. The halls were empty, the only sound was the soft hum of Orinoco Flow by Enya downstairs, making Heather’s surroundings feel dream-like.

She kicked open her bedroom door, the pale brunette still limp in her arms. Her cherry lips were parted and her eyes were closed. 

“Get off of me,” she whimpered suddenly, catching Heather off guard and almost causing her to drop her.

“Veronica?” Heather whispered, laying the girl down on her bed.

“No… Heather… Don’t tell everyone please… please don’t tell everyone I didn’t mean to. Leave me alone please-” tears slowly made their way down Veronica’s cheeks, eyes fluttering open slightly as she brought her knees to her chest, hugging them in an almost fetal position. The charcoal colours framing her eyes began to run down her face like melting wax.

“What on _Earth_ are you talking about?” 

“Please don’t end my life I- I didn’t mean to kiss you… and I- I didn’t mean to like it.”

_“Veronica.”_

But the brunette was dozing off again. Everything she had just said was practically sleep-talking - but it felt so real. Her cries weaved their way around Heather’s heart and tugged on it like barbed wire.

Heather slumped down on a beanbag in the corner of her room, allowing her head to fall into her hands.

After placing a blanket over Veronica’s sleeping frame, she made her way downstairs, preparing to shut off the party.

“Right, everyone! Time to head home! If you don’t haul your asses out of here in five minutes, I’m calling the damn cops!” she yelled, switching the music off so everyone could hear.

Everyone obeyed, not wanting to face the wrath of the Heathers on Monday morning.

“Is everything okay, Heather?” McNamara asked as she passed the bottom of the staircase.

“It’s fine, I’m just tired.”

“Okay. Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Heather.”

Almost everyone had filled out three minutes later, but Heather caught sight of Lydia Deetz wandering around worriedly.

“Deetz, why aren’t you gone?” she hissed.

“Have- Have you seen Veronica anywhere? I saw her earlier and she was super drunk and we were supposed to walk home together I-” she rambled, but Heather cut her off pitifully.

“I saw her leave twenty-minutes ago. She had sobered up and was walking home,” she lied through her teeth, but Lydia gave out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, phew. Um, thanks. Happy birthday,” she said, grabbing her jacket and leaving with a small, nervous smile.

_Some fucking birthday party, huh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked the switched perspectives and timeline !!
> 
> OH AND ALSO...
> 
> big thingy : i’m thinking of changing the title of this fic to “damage to fix” OR “heart to break” because the title is too long-winded . plz vote which one.


	7. cherries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather has to deal with Veronica being asleep in her room whilst old feelings are resurfaced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m SO ANGRY that i couldn’t have just posted this on valentine’s day but it just wasn’t finished yet. i finished it early this morning. i hope you all had a wonderful valentine’s day because i didn’t!
> 
> enjoy the new chapter. the d slur is used like once, there are mentions of sexual assault (from the last chapter), panic attacks and also insecurities.
> 
> but j.d & veronica are lesbian & gay solidarity

What was she supposed to do?

There was a girl Heather Chandler’s bed. There was a girl she _liked_ in her bed. Veronica Sawyer was in her bed, sleeping so _blissfully._

Her lips were parted, the remains of yesterday’s peachy lipstick slightly smudged across them. Her eyes were shut tight, lids creasing. She occasionally tossed and turned, smacking her lips and flicking her tongue whilst she slept. Her hair was a mess, the permed brown locks sticking out left, right and center. Her smokey eye-shadow had run down her cheeks and rubbed against Heather’s clean, white pillowcases during the night.

It was 10 am, Heather was hungover and exhausted after a sleepless night on her chaise lounge. She couldn’t sleep knowing that Veronica could wake up at any blinking moment. If she woke up, she’d probably scream, jump to conclusions and assume that she was being held hostage.

The only logical solution was to call Jason Dean and kindly ask him to pick his friend up and drive her home.

Heather used the hallway landline instead of her bedroom telephone, not wanting the ringing to disturb Veronica’s peaceful slumber.

She found his number in a small leather phone book that her father kept on a shelf beside the telephone, pressing her pointer finger into the rotary phone dial and inputting the number.

It rang once, twice, three times, four times - she began to give up hope. J.D was probably hungover and opting to stay in bed for most of the day.

 _“Hello?”_ the voice came suddenly, almost giving Heather a fright.

“Is this J.D?” she asked timidly, swinging back and forth on her heels.

_“Yes. Heather, is that you? Why are you calling me?”_

“Veronica passed out at my party last night so I kept her here overnight… Do you think you could come pick her up? I don’t- I don’t wanna wake her.”

On the other side of the line, J.D almost dropped his phone. Heather Chandler had never sounded so vulnerable. There was so much pain and tiredness in her voice. J.D was so taken aback by her tone that he almost didn’t acknowledge the fact that Veronica had spent the night in her house.

 _“I’ll be over as soon as possible,”_ he said finally, hanging up straight after.

Heather sighed and placed the phone back on the hook. She re-entered her bedroom, slipping her fluffy slippers on and making her way downstairs. She grimaced at the many red cups thrown around the room, padding to the kitchen to grab a trash bag to clear it all up. 

The strawberry blonde placed a record on the turntable to accompany her whilst she cleaned. She selected _‘Take My Breath Away’_ by Berlin, despite it being the corniest song on the planet. It was an easy-cry.

It took her just under twenty minutes and _lots_ of crying, but each room had been cleared, as well as the backyard and pool, and alcohol stains had been scrubbed all before the doorbell rang. She placed her cleaning equipment down and dashed towards the door, opening it up and finding J.D standing there nervously.

“Do you want me to carry her to my car?” he asked after being invited to step through the door.

“Sure.”

She led him up the spiral staircase, down the red-carpeted hallway, towards her large room filled with paintings, expensive jewelry and a queen-sized bed with a snoring Veronica Sawyer right in the middle.

No words were spoken as J.D approached the bed, scooping the girl up and holding her close to him like a kitten. His expression was pitiful yet surprisingly calm. Veronica did not stir.

Heather followed him silently as he made his way back down the stairs, promptly moving in front of him to hold the door open for them. He walked through it, preparing to walk down the steps towards his car before halting and turning back to Heather who remained standing in the door frame, eyes watering slightly.

“Thanks for looking after her,” he uttered.

“It’s the least I could do,” she replied quietly, before giving him a small wave and closing her door.

.

“J.D?” Veronica yawned, eyes fluttering open as she felt her back hit something soft. She scanned her surroundings, letting out a sigh of relief when she realized she was in her own bed. For some reason, she dreamt she had stayed over at Heather Chandler’s place.

“Good morning! It’s 1 pm!” he said smugly, pushing her hair out of her face, “Are you alright? Last night was a little wild…”

“Yeah I’m great-” she began, but suddenly her head began to throb vigorously, “-Oh, son of a bitch.”

“Do you remember anything from yesterday?”

“The last thing I remember is dancing with Kurt and Ram. _Why_ did I think that was a good idea?”

“If I knew the answer to that, I’d let you know, darling.”

“You know,” Veronica started, “I had this crazy dream that I was sleeping in Heather Chandler’s bed and she kept pacing the room just staring at me. It was _so_ weird.”

“Veronica I-“ J.D frowned before sitting himself down on the end of the girl’s bed, “You blacked out last night and Heather saved you. She called me this morning and asked me to come and pick you up.”

Veronica remembered it all now. She remembered having a panic attack when Kurt began to get handsy with her, grabbing her thighs and slipping his hand under her skirt. She was too drunk to protest, therefore allowing him and Ram to continuously objectify her until she blacked out. 

Then, she remembered being carried in Heather Chandler’s arms. Her eyes were still semi-closed but she could smell Heather’s perfume, which didn’t help her dizziness. 

Her mind told her that Heather was about to beat her up, hurt her, expose her; so she began to wriggle around, still half-blacked out. She whimpered and whined, begging Heather to leave her alone. She recalled drunken apologies spilling from her own lips about the kiss that she didn’t even initiate. She recalled accidentally saying that she had enjoyed it. 

Then that was it. She remembered nothing more.

“Fuck- oh fuck I’m so dead. I’m so dead J.D I-” she began to hyperventilate, grabbing the first object she could find and squeezing it as hard as possible. The object happened to be a heart-shaped cushion that her grandmother had sewed her herself. 

“Why are you dead, V? What’s wrong?” J.D lunged towards her, grabbing her face and forcing her to stare at him.

“I think I told Heather that I liked kissing her. I think- I think-” she wasn’t able to say anything more. Her sobs drowned out her ability to speak.

J.D held her shoulders, knuckles whitening with the tight grip. He didn’t show it often, but he truly loved his best friend. She was always there, defending him on the front line, and she’d always run to his comfort with complete earnestness afterward. She took him under her wing, she protected him, she made him laugh and she taught him how to be better.

And now it was his turn to return the favor.

“Hey, Veronica. Please don’t worry. Everyone knows that you’re the nicest person on the planet, for goodness sake. _Nothing_ is gonna happen to you and no one is gonna touch you because no one sane would lay a finger on someone as incredible and strong as you,” he assured, wiping away tear after tear with his thumb, “And whatever happens, I will be right here. If Heather Chandler slaps you in the face, I’ll be here. If Heather Chandler kisses you, I’ll be here.”

Veronica laughed slightly at the final sentence, before loosely throwing her arms around the boy and pulling him in for a sappy hug.

“I love you big British crumpet and tea,” she mumbled into his ear, earning a nudge in the stomach.

After spending the morning heaving into a toilet bowl, J.D went home and Veronica finally came to her senses, realizing that she was still wearing yesterday’s party clothes.

She removed her skirt and tights first, watching them drop at her feet. She shivered slightly. It was only a week until December, and the cold was really getting to her - physically _and_ mentally.

She unclasped her bralette under her blazer, tossing it to the other side of the room when she was done. She slumped down on her bed, left in only panties and a blazer. Her hands began to pale with the cold, so she slipped them into the pockets of her blazer - only then noticing that it had been stained with some form of alcohol. 

Suddenly she cut her hand slightly on something inside the blazer. She removed the jacket, tipping it upwards and watching whatever it was that jabbed her drop from the pocket.

It was an earring - a rather small one. One that you wouldn’t notice someone was wearing if they didn’t have their hair tied back.

It was in the shape of a cherry. A tiny cherry with a sterling silver butterfly clasp.

She knew _exactly_ where the earring came from and who it belonged to.

.

_Veronica felt bad for Heather Chandler._

_Veronica’s birthday always fell in the middle of summer vacation, so she didn’t have to worry about spending her day stuck behind a miserable desk doing arithmetic and other mathematical things that hurt her head._

_Heather’s birthday, on the other hand, fell at the end of November, at the midpoint between October and winter break, making it a painstakingly unbearable time to celebrate._

_So Veronica wanted to give her friend a kind gesture, to brighten up the day for her and give her an incredible gift - she was turning 10, after all._

_She began saving up her pocket-money in late August, just before school went back after summer vacation. She earned five dollars a week, and by November 21st - the beginning of Heather’s birthday week - she had managed to gain sixty dollars._

_Her dad drove her to the mall the Saturday before Heather’s birthday, following her as she explored  
almost every store in search for the perfect gift._

_They were about to give up and go home because the sun began to set, but then Veronica’s eye caught a red sparkle in the window of a jewelry store. As they approached it, they realized the store clerk was in the middle of closing it for the day._

_“Sorry, we’re closed,” he said in a rather rude tone, not noticing Veronica’s dad was standing just a meter away._

_“Please… Those cherry earrings in the window. They’re perfect. I’ve been saving up since August. I have sixty dollars and I will give you every single penny of it if you just let me buy them today. Please,” she begged, on the verge of tears, “I just wanna do something good for my friend because she’s always buying me lovely things. Do you see this?” she pointed at a little caterpillar shaped hair clip holding back one of her soft curls, “She bought me this when she went to Paris. She was in Paris, for god’s sake! And she saw it and thought of me. Isn’t that the most wonderful thing? I have to do the same for her, so let me in or I riot.”_

_The shop clerk was taken aback, to say the least. Without a word, he slipped the key back into the door and pushed it open, allowing Veronica through. Veronica smiled and politely thanked the man, stepping in and making a beeline for the window display, where the beautiful cherry-shaped studs glimmered under the bright lights._

_“How much are they?” the brunette asked, her eyes lighting up under the earrings’ sparkle._

_“They’re forty-nine ninety-nine. That’s a heck of a lot of money, kid. You sure you wanna spend all your pocket money on a present?”_

_“I’m positive.”_

_Mr. Sawyer almost couldn't believe the ginormous smile plastered across his daughter's lips as she strutted out the jewelers with a small bag in hand._

_“Look at you. My little negotiator!” he chuckled, and Veronica simply winked in response._

_Although the process of purchasing them was long and difficult, the look on Heather’s face as she opened the little box made it all worth it._

_“Oh my Lord Jesus, these are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” the strawberry blonde gaped, handling them so delicately, “Can you help me put them in?”_

_“Sure!” Veronica smiled, sitting herself up on her knees and allowing Heather’s closed legs to slip between them. The latter pushed her hair out of the way, allowing the brunette to carefully slip the studs into the small holes._

_It took a bit of fiddling, but soon enough, she pushed the butterflies on both sides and dragged Heather over to a mirror so she was able to admire herself._

_“I don’t think there’s a person in this world more beautifuller thank you,” whispered Veronica, her friend's face quickly turning the color of her new earrings._

_“Beautifuller isn’t a word.”_

_“Well it is now.”_

.

Veronica clutched the small earring close to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks as the waves of nostalgia hit her whole body. 

She recalled Heather telling her she threw them out one day, after they had stopped being friends. One day, Duke told Heather that there was probably a tracking device in them, or a secret camera, so the latter allegedly threw them in the trash and shoved Veronica over the next day in the locker room, calling her an ‘obsessive freak.’

She didn’t think she still wore them, but the fact that she wore them at an occasion as important as her own birthday party warmed Veronica’s heart.

There was nothing she missed more than being Heather’s friend.

She knew she had to return them.

Before then, though, she had to clean herself up.

She padded into the bathroom after finally stripping down to complete nudity. She grabbed every candle she could find (which was only about five) and lay them around the bathtub, before turning the dial and watching as the water blasted from the tap.

It took about half an hour to fill all the way up, thanks to the frozen winter pipes, but eventually she was able to climb in and lean her head back. Her mind began to wander, once again reflecting on intimate moments she and Heather had shared back when they were younger.

She remembered stealing all of Mrs. Chandler’s makeup at a sleepover one time and turning themselves into clowns, much to Heather’s mom’s dismay. If only someone had taken a picture of their outrageous makeup looks. There weren’t enough pictures of that period of time, preventing Veronica from truly reliving the moments.

At this point, Veronica didn’t even want an apology. 

She just wanted her best friend back.

.

Heather Chandler’s weekends were usually repetitive. On Friday nights, she’d party with college guys. On Saturday mornings she’d get over her hangover by going to the mall with the Heathers, buying outfits for highschool parties on Saturday nights. On Sunday mornings she’d have her beauty routine, occasionally go to the diner with the Heathers and then come home and fuck around - perhaps have a hookup or two. 

This Sunday, she had no plans with the Heathers. Duke was on a date with some random boarding-school kid from the previous night’s party and McNamara had a family function that she wasn't allowed to miss.

Consequently, she took her time with her beauty routine - knowing that she wasn't in a rush to be anywhere.

She began the process by running the bath in her ensuite, pouring red-tinted bubble bath into the steaming water as the levels rose more and more. She stripped, clothes dropping onto the cold, salmon-colored bathroom tiles. 

She was able to closely look at herself in the mirror when she stood in that particular spot. After catching a glance at her figure, she frowned. Hesitantly, her cold hands cupped her breasts as her mind longer for them to shrink. They were the principal reason for her constant objectification, and they also made her back hurt. 

She sighed and pulled her hands away before bending down and switching off the bath faucet, climbing in. The heat instantly reddened her fair skin, _just_ cool enough to not give her second-degree burns.

Leaning back, she allowed her hair to be submerged into the warm water. Her ears throbbed at the heat of the water, but it caused a nice sensation to flow through her body. Her once strawberry blonde hair became a light brown when damp, floating around her head like an angelic halo. 

Veronica Sawyer. All she could think about was Veronica Sawyer. How the girl had so sweetly uttered the softest little _’happy birthday, Heather.’_

Heather took in a deep breath, lifting her hands up and rubbing water across her legs. When they were toddlers, she and Veronica’s parents used to make them bathe together. They were both too young to process anything, so it just seemed like bath time with a friend. Heather had no memory of it, but there were pictures of the two of them hugging and grinning, covered head-to-shoulder in bubbles. 

Usually, she stayed in the bathtub until she became lightheaded with the heat and the steam, and today was no different. She began to feel dizzy with the sweet rosy scent of bubble bath, so she clambered out. 

The cold hit her instantly, like a blizzard right after a heatwave. She reached for her towel from its place on the radiator, wrapping it around her swiftly. 

After standing still for a minute or so, daydreaming and staring into the abyss, she walked over to the corner of the room where the radio sat. She switched it on and was instantly cursed with the irritatingly joyful voice of the host.

 _“Hey ladies and gents. It’s a very fineeee Sunday mornin’, and you know what that means,”_ there was a pause, as if he was genuinely expecting a response, _“That’s right, my little lovebirds. It’s Sunday love son-”_

“Ugh,” Heather grumbled, reaching forward and switching the dial instantly. The sound of Janis Ian’s _‘At Seventeen’_ filled the room.

Once she had switched back into her robe, she sat at her large vanity to give herself a face mask, still humming along to the lyrics of the song.

 _“To those of us that knew the pain of Valentine’s that never came, and those whose names were never called when choosing sides for basketball,”_ she was completely out of tune, though she was too focused on spreading thick green facemask across her cheeks.

Despite it being mid-winter, the sun still shone through the window, causing Heather’s red and white room to glow. Moments like these, when she was in the company of no one but herself, were the best moments.

She let the mask sit for a few minutes, as the packet instructed, before walking downstairs to the kitchen to find cucumber slices for her eyes. She was unsure of what cucumber slices did but she’d seen girls use them in movies.

 _Lately_ by Stevie Wonder played quietly in the background as she lay down on her bed, basking in sunlight and allowing the facemask to soak into her skin, then _Heaven Is a Place on Earth_ by Belinda Carslile played whilst she gently removed the mask with a damp towel.

Because she wasn’t scheduled to have any human interaction that day, she decided to wear something more casual. An oversized red knitted sweater that her grandma had made for her father but he despised and baggy jeans with a large belt to match were what she chose.

However, her plan of not allowing anyone to see her the entire day was thrown out the window when the doorbell rang.

“Christ. What happened to the mailman not coming on a Sunday?” she groaned, fixing her hair and making her way downstairs, tripping on the large staircase every so often. She reached for the door handle and began to speak, “I think you’ve got the wrong house- hello?”

There stood Veronica Sawyer in all her 5’7 glory, the tip of her nose red from the cold, wrapped in a blue jacket with little black boots. She was biting her lip and she looked extremely nervous, rocking back and forth on her heels with her hands buried in her pockets. 

“You look like Paddington Bear,” Heather blurted foolishly.

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she sighed, knuckles still gripping the doorframe, “Why are you here?”

“First of all, I wanted to… well, I wanted to thank you. You saved my ass last night. Had you not done that I might’ve, well, woken up deflowered in Kurt and Ram’s sex dungeon or something...” the brunette rambled, avoiding all forms of eye contact.

“It’s fine. Last night sucked so, I might as well have got something out of it,” Heather muttered, before looking back up at Veronica. The former was trying not to make some snarky remark about how Veronica just admitted she was a virgin. It was Sunday and she was too exhausted for that. “Is that the only reason you’re here?” she added.

Veronica’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ shape as she slowly removed her hands from her pocket after feeling around for something inside. 

“I found this in my blazer pocket this morning and I- well I assumed you’d want it back cause it must hold some kind of sentimental value considering it’s been like eight years and you haven’t thrown it out yet so…” the brunette held her hand out, and Heather’s heart dropped when she saw the small cherry, almost sparkling in the sunlight. 

Instinctively, her hands raised to her ears to feel around, only now realizing one of the cherries had been missing the whole time.

“Thank you. I didn’t even realize it was missing,” she chuckled half-heartedly, reaching for the earring from where it sat in Veronica’s shaky palms.

The strawberry blonde’s finger brushed the fair skin for a small second, causing her to instantly retreat her hand once she’d grabbed the piece of jewelry.

They just stood there in silence for half a minute. It was strangely comfortable. Veronica was just about to open her mouth and utter a goodbye when Heather lunged forward and pulled her into a tight hug.

Heather went in for it assuming Veronica would reciprocate it, hold her close, breathe in and take in her scent. This wasn’t the case, because the brunette pulled back straight after processing the action, untangling herself from the girl.

“Heather, you’re not fucking funny,” she spat, her eyes inflamed.

The blonde’s mouth went agape, and she felt like her heart was being punctured by a thousand knives.

“I don’t understand-”

“-You’re right, you don’t,” Veronica was shaking her head now, backing away, “What are you gonna do now? Tell everyone that that _stupid dyke_ Veronica pulled you in for a hug and tried to kiss you or something stupid like that? Are you gonna let me get close to you again and then drop me when it’s convenient for you? Are you gonna make another _bullshit_ accusation that everyone believes because they’re all your fucking _slaves?”_

Heather’s eyes widened as the girl’s words shot at her like a slap in the face.

“Well, Heather. I’m not falling for it this time. You may be a mythic bitch, but you will not have power over me again.”

And then she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m sorry .....
> 
> pls comment. i’d love to know what u all think


	8. out of hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica and Heather go head to head in a basketball game and things do not end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like my writing style & vocabulary is super over repetitive:’(. anyways! the tail end of this chapter is super duper fluffy so be excited !!
> 
> triggering warnings:  
> lowkey internalised homophobia  
> brief mention of blood 
> 
> leave comments if u love me

_Dear Diary,_

_I think there is something wrong with me (aside from liking girls, because we have already established that.) It’s like I have Stockholm syndrome or something. I don’t (or at least I don’t think so,) but it’s kind of like that._

_Because no matter how much Heather Chandler mistreats me or makes me feel awful about myself, I still like her. Even when she hugs me just to spite me, her touch stays on my skin for weeks. It’s so dumb._

_J.D keeps telling me that maybe the hug was genuine, cause when he picked me up from her place after her party she was all ‘soft and sweet’ but it’s so out of character that it seems impossible._

_I’m only writing right now cause I woke up twenty minutes before my alarm, but it just went off so I’m gonna go. I hope today is okay considering I snapped at Heather._

_Xoxo, Veronica._

.

Things felt strange around the school that morning. Lydia and Wednesday were as close as always, and J.D still made comments about hot jocks every five seconds, but people were treating Veronica differently, as if someone had told everyone that making fun of her was out of bounds.

Monday mornings meant Phys Ed, and Phys Ed meant getting changed in a locker room full of half-naked girls who all thought Veronica was in love with them. The truth was, Veronica wasn’t actually in love with any of them, except maybe, possibly, _potentially_ Heather Chandler, but she refused to look at her at all when they were changing.

The truth was, Phys Ed was a nightmare when everyone thought you were a lesbian, so Veronica had recently begun to change behind a shower curtain to avoid all humiliation.

Her friends wished her good luck before she entered the locker room, as they always did. She swung her draw-string bag over her shoulder and pushed open the door. Veronica expected everyone to go silent and whip their heads around towards her like they usually did, so she was more than surprised when no one acknowledged her presence.

It felt like back to the future, and she had traveled back to 1981, before everyone thought she was some obsessive lesbo.

Heather Chandler was staring at her with an unreadable expression. It was anger with a mixture of hurt and confusion. 

Veronica blinked a few times to make sure she hadn’t fainted, before walking towards one of the pegs on the wall and hooking her bag over it. She waited a few seconds to see if anyone would say a word before unbuttoning her blue shirt, leaving herself in her black denim skirt and black bra. She grabbed the tight, mustard-colored sports top from her back and pulled it over her head, struggling slightly with its lack of elasticity. It took her a while, but she successfully pulled it over her bra, frowning after seeing her reflection in a nearby mirror.

The brunette slipped her pants down her legs and replaced them with the baggy gym shorts that the school had provided her. Instead of distributing different sizes, they decided to just go for a ‘one size fits all’ system for financial reasons. Veronica could've sworn that she hadn’t seen a single person fit them correctly - aside from Heather Chandler, that was, but the blonde had altered them herself at home. 

The majority of the girls had already made their way through to the basketball court, but Veronica took a little longer. She didn’t want to be seen standing too close to groups of girls, in case someone saw her as a predator or a stalker. It sucked that she had to overthink it all so much. It wasn’t fair.

After pulling her hair back into a flimsy high ponytail, she tied the laces on her sports sneakers and followed the crowd a few meters behind, into the large sports hall. Every time she entered the room, she thought about how unnecessarily large it was and how the budget for it could’ve been distributed towards the more artistic programs. But, of course, the government couldn’t give less of a shit about teens' artistic expression.

The coach told each of the twenty girls in the class to sit on a bench. The benches were small, so when groups of people sat on them, it resulted in multiple pairs of thighs being pressed together. Veronica couldn’t risk the outrage from her classmates if her thighs touched another girls’, so she sat herself on the cold, wooden floor.

“Are you ladies ready to play some basketball?” the coach grinned over-enthusiastically, “So today _I’m_ gonna choose the teams,” she announced, earning an avalanche of groans in response. “I need two volunteers to be team captains.”

Heather Chandler’s hand shot up faster than anything Veronica had ever seen, followed by Courtney’s and an array of many other smug cheerleaders. Duke only managed to raise her hand an inch before Chandler smacked it down. Veronica found herself stifling a laugh. 

“Madame Sawyer, what’s so funny?” the coach snapped suddenly, and Veronica felt her heart drop to her stomach.

“Uh, nothing, miss…”

“I see your hand wasn’t up to be captain?”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Well,” she tutted, “Considering you can't even listen to me, I doubt you’ll be able to listen to your team captain, so how about we make you our first captain?”

Veronica was too exhausted to protest, especially considering the coach’s question was intended to be rhetorical, so she just nodded. She hated getting in trouble.

“And our second captain shall be… Heather Chandler.”

Although the brunette wasn’t looking at the girl, she knew there was a wide grin on her face. The sickening scent of revenge filled the air, filling Veronica’s nose and sending adrenaline pumping through her body. The coach split the remaining girls into two teams. The half that were sent to team Sawyer groaned and moped whilst the girls sent to team Chandler high-fived and laughed.

“Now, as a group of strong women, we must empower one another. I want the team captains to give a pep-talk that will hopefully boost your confidence in your skills and encourage you to work hard as a team,” the coach explained, sounding like she was reading off lines scribbled on her palm. The school board had likely set her up to it. “You have five minutes to warm up and encourage one another, then get into places and I’ll toss up the ball. Understand?”

Half the class didn’t understand, but if nodding meant they didn’t have to hear her drone on for any longer, then they didn’t _need_ to understand.

“Okay lameasses!” Heather rounded up her team like an army of brainwashed skanks. They all circled her as if she was the Buddha or something. “We are gonna ruin the other team, do you hear me?”

“Yeah!”

“I _said:_ do you hear me?”

_“Yeah!”_

One of the girls on Veronica’s team, Courtney, sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Does she think she’s a fucking birthday party DJ?” 

Thankfully, for the safety of the other girls on the team, Heather didn't hear.

”So are you gonna give us your pep-talk or what, Sawyer?” another girl on Veronica’s team said, nudging the brunette.

Veronica had no idea what she was supposed to say. If she encouraged them by complimenting their strengths, they’d probably assume she had a crush on them or something.

“Sure, um… Play by the rules. Remember to communicate before you pass the ball… oh and remember to actually _pass_ the ball. Don’t shoot if your miles away and watch out for opponents when dribbling.” She didn’t really know what else to say other than that. She didn’t have much faith in these girls after seeing how they _usually_ played in team sports. 

“You literally just explained the rules of basketball…” one of her teammates snorted.

“Whatever,” Courtney stepped back from their huddle, making her way onto the court, “I’ll be the starting player since I’m the tallest and probably the best player.”

“Actually, Country Club Courtney; the team captains start in the middle. Back off,” Heather Chandler stated, facing away from her team with her hands on her hips.

“That’s not a real rule, Heather-” the coach and Veronica both said in unison, but of course the blonde interjected.

“I said what I said. Now, hasn’t it been five minutes?”

“Yep!” the coach blew her whistle and watched as each girl made their way to their positions. “Team Sawyer, you all have to wear bibs to distinguish your team from the other. Here,” she tossed them a pile of blue bibs that smelt of sweat mixed with B.O and blood.

“These are disgusting,” Courtney winced, pulling the fabric over her head and instantly holding her nose afterward in an attempt to plug the wretched scent.

_“Positions!”_

Heather and Veronica made their way to center court, facing one another with just a few steps separating the two of them.

The coach approached them, a semi-deflated basketball in hand and a whistle in her mouth.  
She began to count down from three with her fingers,  
before aggressively blowing her whistle and tossing the ball a couple metres up in the air.

Heather, being a few inches taller than Veronica, reached it first, swatting it towards her teammates who instantly sprinted towards it and began to dribble it down the court, towards the opponents’ hoop.

“Courtney, try and get an interception!” Veronica called across the court when one of Heather’s teammates made an attempt to pass it. 

Surprisingly, Courtney succeeded in swooping in and stealing the ball, swiftly darting her way down the opposite side of the court, away from her team’s hoop. 

“Fuck,” Courtney grumbled when she found herself surrounded by opponents. She called for Veronica’s name after spotting her a few feet away, and decidedly threw a pass to her.

The brunette ran towards the ball, intending to catch it. In a flash of milliseconds, Heather Chandler made an attempt at an intercept.

“I don’t fucking think so, Veronica,” she sneered.

“Back off.”

“Don’t talk back to me, bitch.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Veronica was quick on her feet - though not quick enough to escape the girl’s wrath. 

Suddenly, the two girls’ bodies collided, knocking both of them to the ground with a hard thud.

Veronica could barely process what was happening until she felt the distinct metallic taste of blood fill her mouth. She shut her eyes, trying to block out the rest of the world whilst Heather’s furious words still rung in her ears.

She could hear a muffled ‘are you okay’ and ‘get help,’ but she was too shocked to come to terms with what the words she was hearing actually meant.

All she could think was: _Is Heather okay? Did I kill her? Did she kill me?_

Then, she felt multiple pairs of arms lift her from her position on the icy wooden floor, assisting her out of the room and - presumably - towards the nurse’s office.

After a few minutes, she felt her back hit a rather uncomfortable mattress - albeit, more comfortable than the painfully hard basketball court floor. An ice pack was placed on her jaw, triggering her to come back to consciousness at the cold shock. 

“Are you okay?” a voice asked. It was the school nurse. Veronica remembered the woman from the time she needed painkillers to calm her cramps on her first ever period four years prior.

“Yeah, I’m fine…” she noticed her own speech was slightly muffled, and blood escaped her mouth and trickled down her chin with each word.

“Do you know what happened?”

“Basketball happened. Did I lose all my teeth?”

The nurse chuckled, placing a warm hand over Veronica’s aching forehead, “No. You didn’t lose all your teeth. You did get quite a bad knock to the mouth, though. I think you bit down really hard when you collided with your friend, causing your mouth to bleed.”

“Oh,” Veronica replied bluntly. She wasn’t shocked, or disgusted. She was in no way scared or in immense pain. She was merely weirded out. “Is, uh, is Heather okay? My uh ‘friend.’ The one I collided with…”

The nurse didn’t understand at first, but raised her painted eyebrows when she realized, a soft smile making its way onto her lips.

“Oh yes, she’s fine. Her nose collided with the side of your face, so it’s bleeding quite a lot, but she’s only really concerned about if it’s crooked or not. I’ve told her many times it isn’t, but she’s a stubborn one, isn’t she?” 

“Tell me about it.”

“Now,” the nurse began, picking a clipboard up from her desk, “I’m going to need to ask you a few questions. It’s just a standard procedure - we gotta make sure you don’t have a concussion. Is that alright?”

“Sure, yeah.”

“Can you tell me your full name and your parents’ names?”

“My name is Veronica Marie Sawyer, my mom is Jennifer Sawyer and my dad is William Sawyer.”

“Perfect. Now can you tell me your age, what year it is, and what year you were born.”

“I’m seventeen, it is 1988, and I was born in 1971.”

“Great. Thanks, Veronica. Now do you want me to-” she was about to say something, but the vice principal opened the curtain and marched in, looking rather stern.

“Veronica Sawyer. I need you and Heather Chandler to sort out your differences before you can be dismissed. Coach Davis and Heather Duke both agree that this incident occurred due to unresolved tension between you two girls, and Mrs Flemming believes it can be settled through talking to one another,” he said, his arms folded and his bushy brows furrowed.

The brunette watched as the nurse held back giggles, having to turn towards the window to compose herself. Veronica was helpless. She couldn’t exactly say no in the condition that she was in, so she complied and found herself washing her face and moving to the other side of the curtain, where Heather Chandler was sitting on another bed.

Her legs were crossed and there were two bits of tissue shoved in her nostrils to prevent anymore blood from spilling out. There was visibly blood all over her yellow sports shirt, and there was a cold face cloth laying delicately on her forehead. She was flicking through a fashion magazine, not bothering to look up when Veronica sat herself on the edge of the bed, just a foot or so away from her.

The vice principal ushered the nurse out of the room, leaving the two girls alone.

“I was told I should apologize to you but I don’t really understand _why,_ considering I did exactly that yesterday and you _snapped_ at me,” Heather spoke up, cutting through the silence yet refusing to move her eyes away from the pages of her magazine.

Veronica raised a brow, thousands of thoughts swimming around her brain, “Call me crazy, but if there was an apology for the shit that you’ve put me through, I’m pretty sure I’d remember it.”

The strawberry blonde whipped her head up quickly, lips parting at Veronica’s sudden confidence.

“I literally hugged you?” she said matter-of-factly, and the brunette almost thought she was _joking._

“Oh? A tiny hug is supposed to make up for the constant betrayals and slurs you have thrown at me and my friends for the last seven years? Last time I checked, that’s not how apologies fucking work, Heather.”

For the first time in her life, Heather was stunned to silence. There were no words that could be said in that moment. 

The blonde suddenly felt really self conscious, gently removing the tissues from her nose and tossing them in a nearby bin. Thankfully, the bleeding had stopped. If it hadn’t, the white bedsheets would be crimson by now.

Both girls wanted to say something, but they had no idea what. Veronica wanted to be friends with Heather. She wanted to be close to her all the time. But she also wanted to rip her beautiful hair from her skull and smash her face in.

The silence stretched on, until both of them coincidentally aimed to break it at the same time.

“Listen Heather I-” 

“-Veronica listen.”

“You go,” Veronica muttered.

“Right,” Heather sighed, and folded her arms the other way, biting her lip slightly as she thought over her words, “Yesterday - when I hugged you - It was the easiest way for me to try and make everything up to you. It’s so hard for me to just be open and honest about my past and why I am the way I am, but that hug I- well I really meant it. I wasn’t hugging you to frame you for being some kinda lesbian again. I’ve learned from my mistakes. I didn't just invite you to my party as a joke for me and the Heathers to entertain us. I _did_ want you there. I felt so, so bad after how I treated you at Remington and I- I know that you didn’t kiss me that night. That was all on me, but can we forget about that, please?” her voice cracked, and Veronica was taken aback.

“Yeah, uh, sure. I’m sorry for being rude yesterday and today, it's just… you can see where I was coming from, right?”

“Oh yeah, totally. You reacted like any normal person would. I need to work on myself, and to do that I need you back in my life. I’ve already told everyone to leave you alone, though,” her eyes began to water and Veronica thought she really had been knocked unconscious at that moment, because every word that escaped Heather’s lips felt in character, “So, can we be friends? I’ve spoken to Duke and Mara about it and they’re okay with leaving you alone from now on. I’m glad to see people have been antagonising you much less than usual.”

Veronica nodded and wiped a falling tear from her eye before Heather could notice it. The latter continued rambling.

“And, the truth is, you’re the nicest person I know, and I want you to help me be better. But, like, that’s not the only reason. That night before Remington, I was so _happy._ There’s this constant pressure to be a people-pleaser when you have a high status, but when it was just me and you, doing makeup and talking like the old days, I felt so comfortable. I didn’t have to pretend to be anyone. I didn’t have to exhaust myself with a facade.”

Veronica nodded some more, before biting her lip and itching her head slightly.

“I believe you’ve changed,” she said finally, and Heather seemed to let loose a little after getting a response.

“Can I hug you? Like, a genuine one?” the blonde mumbled.

“Sure.”

So she pulled her in for a very awkward hug, and Veronica didn’t know where to put her arms, so she just dropped them by Heather’s tailbone and made no effort to pull her closer.

Veronica felt as if she had flown to heaven when Heather began to sniffle on her shoulder.

“Don’t tell people I act like this around you, except J.D and stuff. You can tell them if you want. I just don’t want everything to change all of a sudden - I’m not used to that - but I want things to slowly improve.”

“Okay,” Veronica chuckled, before pulling back and cracking the tiniest smile. “Thanks for making people leave me alone, and I’m sorry for breaking your nose.”

“It’s not broken - thank _God.”_

It was hard for Veronica to trust Heather easily. She had been let down so many times. However, forming strong attachments came so naturally to the brunette, making it even _harder_ to hate people, no matter how badly they treated her.

In this moment, she knew this was genuine. No amount of bribery could enable Heather Chandler to let her guard down _this_ much.

Veronica knew this was genuine because that was the old Heather, except the old Heather had never gone away, she was just faced with the highschool status and clique system and wasn’t able to stop it consuming her.

But now, for the first time in a long time, Veronica wasn’t scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave comments if u love me cuz i for sure love U
> 
> ALSO A DISCLAIMER REGARDING THE BEGINNING OF THE CHAPTER
> 
> !!!!there is nothin wrong with liking girls!!!!


	9. up in the air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica gets an unexpected guest at an ungodly hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings!  
> child abuse  
> internalized homophobia  
> homophobia  
> d slur 
> 
> anyways hope u like it woohoo
> 
> UPDATE: oopsies i had to fix a few things so i’ll republish this chapter with the corrections!

“She really just rambled to you and now you’re friends again? Damn. Talk about bipolar,” Lydia sneered, her head resting in Wednesday’s lap. They were all spread across Veronica’s basement, drinking wine coolers and listening to shitty records for comfort.

“Should you trust her?” Martha sighed, sipping her sparkling cider. She always brought her own drink. Alcohol wasn’t really her _thing._ “You let your guard down that one time at the college party, and remember how upset you were afterward on the phone to me? I really don’t want you to get hurt again.”

Veronica pursed her lips and scratched her head from her spot on her velvet armchair.

“I believe she is being genuine this time,” Wednesday shrugged.

“Yeah, but you don’t _know_ her,” her girlfriend cut in.

“I am very gifted in reading other people’s auras. Do not question my skill, bluebird.”

“Bluebird? Ew,” J.D snorted, popping open his third drink.

Wednesday shot him a dirty look, and he simply chuckled in response, before crawling over to the record and removing the needle. He decided he wanted to watch a movie, so he opened up the VCR and slipped _‘Killer Klowns from Outer Space’_ inside, fully knowing that every single person in the room despised it. 

He leaned back when it began and grinned when everyone else groaned.

“Come on! Have a little bit of fun! It’s so bad that it’s good!” he chuckled, jumping up onto the couch beside Martha.

“I’m too tired for this,” Martha yawned, rubbing her eyes and leaning back against the purple couch linen. “What time is it?”

Her yawn triggered Veronica to yawn too whilst looking down at her watch, “It’s almost half-past one in the morning. It’s probably time for you guys to motor. I don’t want my mom and dad to get mad at me tomorrow when you end up ‘accidentally’ blacking-out on my couch.”

“But the movie-”

“-You can take it home, J.D. I don’t want it.”

Wednesday kissed Lydia gently as they stood up, thanking Veronica for the drinks before leaving together to go to Lydia’s for the night. The couple felt so lucky to both be part of such accepting families. The thing with the Deetz household was that Lydia’s father, Charles, was too caught up in his own work to care about what his daughter did in her own time, and uncle Beetlejuice didn’t care about anything other than the hot neighbors down the street - who happened to be a heterosexual couple, and he liked both of them. Beetlejuice couldn’t care less about who Lydia thought was pretty, and that’s why she loved him. 

The Addams Family had never hidden secrets from one another. There was no reason to. Gomez and Morticia both knew that Pugsley pulled feathers from seagull wings and stuck them onto his lampshade, they knew that Wednesday kept torture devices in the basement to use on Pugsley when he was irritating her, and they knew that Pugsley _liked_ it - and they didn’t care - so why would they care about Wednesday dating a girl?

Lydia had already had a dinner party at Wednesday’s house the night they announced their relationship to the latter’s family. The only response they got was something about how thankful Morticia was that her daughter wasn’t into _highschool boys_.

J.D removed Killer Klowns from the VCR reluctantly, shoving it into his leather jacket. He gave Veronica a small wink and a stupid salute before hopping up the stairs.

“Can’t I just stay here for the nightttt?” Martha groaned, rolling around on the couch like a baby.

“There’s a pretty bad storm outside right now, Martha. Your mom would be worried if you didn’t get home soon. The next bus is at 1:30, and it’s 1:27 right now. I’ll give you change if you need it,” Veronica stated whilst fixing all the cushions that J.D had drunkenly knocked over multiple times.

“Fine, but you don’t need to pay. I don’t want to have to wait an hour for the next bus.”

Martha slowly slid off the couch, standing up and embracing her friend in a hug, pulling the brunette’s face as close to her as possible.

“Martha... You’ll miss your bus,” Veronica mumbled into her friend’s shoulder, unraveling herself from the warmth of the embrace. The basement gradually grew colder as each friend left, despite the Sawyers’ underfloor heating. 

Winter in Ohio was a bitch. It was currently 0 degrees Celsius outside the walls of the Sawyer household, yet Zeus decided it apparently wasn’t freezing enough for the constant rainfall to become snow.

“Bye, Ronnie! See you at school tomorrow- Wait, we don’t have school!” It was an attempt at a joke. Emphasis on _attempt._ She wasn’t wrong, though. There was a weather warning across almost a third of the state. There was supposedly gale-force wind with a side of hailstones that weigh more than marbles.

That didn’t bother the students, of course. Veronica had used it to her advantage and invited her friends round to drink and ramble about the pressures of school life whilst studying for January midterms.

When the brunette heard Martha shut the front door, she collapsed onto the couch. Everything was so tiring right now. After some debate, she grabbed another wine cooler from the pack. She needed it. She didn’t like to turn to alcohol for comfort, but it seemed convenient that there was a pack of bottles right there just _longing_ to be popped open and sipped.

Her teeth gently hit the green glass as she raised the bottle to her mouth, reminding her of the injuries she had faced earlier that day in P.E class. The metallic taste of blood still lingered on her taste buds, and she’d have to bite her tongue gently to make it go away.

The room was too quiet. She needed to put a record on. She grabbed the first one she could find. It was ‘Hey Lover’ by Daughters of Eve - one of her mom’s pieces of vinyl from the 60s.

The song had a happy tone with happy lyrics and a happy meaning, yet it somewhat made Veronica feel so inherently sad.

She turned up the volume dial until her ears began to ring, thanking the Lord for the absence of her parents that evening and the soundproof walls of her suburban home.

If the music had just been ever so slightly louder, she might not have heard the rapid ringing of the doorbell.

“The fuck?” she muttered, placing the wine cooler down on the carpet. It took her way more effort than it should have to walk up the staircase towards the front door, but she made it eventually. That didn’t matter though, because every ounce of exhaustion in her body disappeared when she opened the door.

It was a girl. Her legs were long, but they were mostly covered by a large, red raincoat. The waterproof material was saving the girl’s life because the rain was heavier than anything Veronica had ever seen. Being outside was practically _begging_ for pneumonia.

Oh, and it was Heather Chandler.

“Do you realize how late it is?” Veronica asserted, leaning against the doorframe. She pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her hands, the cold nibbling at every unclothed patch of skin on her body.

“Uh, yeah,” the blonde lifted her wrist up, displaying a red swatch to the disinterested brunette, “Before you ask I- well I had to get out of the house. The school called home today to explain what happened in Phys Ed, and for some reason that made him so… so mad. I don’t know he just- well he started throwing things. ‘You’re flyin’ too close to the sun, Punkin’’ is what he said before throwing a fucking _spoon_ at me.” She took a pause to breathe. She had a bad habit of rambling all in one breath, “I knew I’d feel worse if I went to Duke’s place, and Mac was doing something with Ram tonight so I- well that leaves _you.”_

Veronica squinted her eyes, analyzing the girl for a moment before gesturing her inside, bringing her out of the dark storm and into her brightly-lit front room, “You mean to tell me that there was no other person you could come and disturb in the middle of the night other than… _me?”_ she questioned whilst waiting for Heather to remove her jacket.

“I’m sure there are many guys that would love to spend the night with me, but they’re all… well, you know how the guys can be. I decided I wanted to come here because I trust you, and I want you to trust me.”

“Heather it’s not fucking easy-”

 _“I know,”_ she stated, louder than she was intending to, “I know,” she repeated, softer this time, “I just didn’t wanna-” her voice cracked “-I didn’t wanna…” her face scrunched up, and Veronica knew that look.

Heather was trying not to cry.

“You didn’t wanna _what,_ Heather?”

“I didn’t wanna be alone.”

That was when the taller girl broke down. Tears spilled from her eyes like a faucet, and she stopped trying to remove her jacket. She just let the freezing material consume her and Veronica was _watching_ the happiness drain from her face.

So at that very moment, Veronica didn’t care that she was wearing her favorite woolen sweater, and she didn’t care that she was finally warming up in her chilly house. She simply yanked Heather towards her and pulled her into the tightest hug either one of them had ever experienced.

Veronica only pulled away when Heather mumbled something into her neck, and the former wanted to know what it was, so she squinted her eyes and asked, “What did you say?”

“I missed you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear that. Come again…”

“I _said_ that I _missed you!”_

The blonde’s quivering hand instantly shot to cover her mouth after the words escaped her lips, for she had spoken them louder than intended.

Veronica tried to suppress the immense amounts of surprise and joy exploding in her stomach as her own lips curled into a sweet smile.

“I missed you too, H.”

.

It felt strange. Heather Chandler was in Veronica Sawyer’s shower and the latter was sitting on her bed trying to convince herself that this wasn’t some crazy fantasy that she had written about in her journal when she was thirteen. This was _real._ Heather Chandler’s clothes really _were_ in her dryer.

Earlier, Veronica fixed the blonde some warm tea and honey whilst listening to her vent about her father and many other issues in life. The brunette felt awful because, in her mind, the life of a Heather was utterly flawless, but that night completely changed her perception of the trio.

She learned many things about each Heather that she would never have known. Heather McNamara had been struggling with depression for just over a year and was pushing herself too hard to maintain the innocence that she always displayed in public, and Heather Duke had been facing extreme self-image issues and developed pretty severe bulimia. Chandler explained that Duke’s psychologist had issued the former to keep track of Duke’s ‘purges.’ And Chandler was dealing with her own problems, mostly associated with unwanted male attention. 

Veronica found it hard not to lunge forward and hug Heather at that moment because she had never related to something more, but she didn’t want to interrupt the girl’s ramble, especially considering it seemed to be helping her mood lift.

After an hour, Heather’s thick curls were still dripping with rainwater, so Veronica tossed her a towel and switched on the shower for her. The brunette laid out some old pajamas for the blonde whilst the girl showered.

Heather took quite a while, evidently forgetting that not every family in Ohio could afford liters and liters of hot water, but Veronica didn’t mind. 

When the girl finally emerged from the bathroom, merely wrapped in a plain beige towel, she looked ethereal. Her collarbones acted as a cavern for the droplets of water trailing from her strawberry blonde locks and down her body. Her skin glowed, freckles on full display now that her makeup had been fully removed. 

Veronica never understood why Heather always attempted to mask her freckles. They were one of the most beautiful parts of her.

The brunette noticed small patches of acne dusted across Heather’s upper arms, shoulders and back, and quickly decided that they were Heather’s most beautiful feature. Even more so than her freckles.

“I know I’m spotty. Don’t tell anyone…” she huffed, backing towards the wall slightly, hoping her arms would be out of sight.

“Heather. We’re high schoolers. _Everyone_ is spotty, and if they aren’t, they probably work for the devil.” Veronica got up from her spot at the end of her bed, handing Heather the small pile of pajamas she had laid out, “I think these will fit you.”

“Thanks. I like them.”

Veronica was thankful that it was almost 3 am and the bulb on her nightlight was almost bust, because if the room were to be any lighter, Heather would’ve noticed the scarlet flush creep across the brunette’s pale skin.

“Cool.” - Was all she managed to respond with.

The blonde descended back into Veronica’s bathroom, the neatly folded pajama set in hand whilst the brunette grabbed her peach slip dress from beneath her pillow. She stripped herself of her evening wear from earlier’s mini get-together as fast as possible, hoping Heather wouldn’t re-enter when she was half-naked. Thankfully, she had successfully pulled the chiffon material over her slightly scruffy hair before Heather returned from the ensuite.

The strawberry-blonde had a very stern, worrisome look on her face when she entered, taking Veronica off guard as their gazes met. She was nibbling the skin surrounding her nail, and once again began to carry herself with an aura of vulnerability. It was beginning to be not-so-unusual to Veronica these days.

However, the brunette was still curious as to watch caused the shift in mood. Her mind cleared then, the wine cooler’s effects diminishing as Heather finally gained the confidence to look her dead in the eye.

“I lied,” the blonde rushed out, causing Veronica to question the scientific fact that states how the speed of light is faster than the speed of sound.

“About what?”

“About why I’m here.”

There it was. Veronica knew it. It was yet another prank set up by who-knows, except this time she had fallen for it and it was almost impossible to back out considering Heather Chandler was in her bedroom and it was so early in the morning. Tears built up in the brunette’s eyes when she realized how foolish she had been. Did she _seriously_ think everything was going back on track again? What a fucking _loser._

“Leave. Just… just _leave,”_ she snapped, voice cracking unwillingly. 

Heather stood there, bewildered. It took her a minute to comprehend why Veronica wanted her to leave so suddenly, but then she was reminded of all the brunette’s trust issues and hesitance when it came to merely breathing in Heather’s direction.

“No! That isn’t what I meant when I said I lied!” Heather finally responded, her tone soft yet defensive all at once, “I just mean- I lied about why I had to get out of my house. I didn’t wanna tell you at first cause it’s… Well, it’s my darkest secret and… And it’s pretty ironic and hypocritical of me.”

Veronica felt her rage and pain cool down slightly before folding her arms and cocking her head to the side, “What are you talking about?”

“Only if you promise you won’t tell a soul or else I’ll kill you with my bare hands, and even if you’re angry, still let me stay the night because I have nowhere else to go.”

“Fine. Shoot. What is it?”

“My dad still kicked me out but he wasn’t mad because the school called him…”

.

_Dear Diary,_

_I’m spending the night in the living room. The sound of the storm is way too loud from my bedroom. The living room is fucking freezing but it’s better than being terrorized by Mother Nature while I sleep._

_Today was fucking mad. Or yesterday. I dunno it’s like a little bit past midnight so it’s basically still yesterday. Anyways today at school was fucking mad. My temper got the best of me (what’s new) and I kinda nearly broke my nose and made Veronica Sawyer’s mouth bleed all in the same single basketball match. We kinda collided._

_It wasn’t too bad. It’s probably the closest I’m ever gonna get to touching her. Jesus Christ I just wanna touch her!_

_The worst part is, though. I don’t just wanna touch her perfect fucking body. I wanna touch her hands and her heart._

_Sorry that was so dumb._

_We talked things out and it was so hot to see her stand her ground - but I digress - things are basically fixed between us now. Or at least they’re better than they were this morning. Or yesterday morning. Fuck! I don’t know!_

_Anyways so after school I-_

“Heather? What are you doing up at this hour?” the sound of her father bursting into the room distracted her from her writing. She didn’t expect anyone to still be awake. Instinctively, she dropped her pen onto the wooden floor, “Is that a journal you’re writing in?”

“No? It’s my literacy homework assignment.”

“School called last night explaining how you haven’t turned in a single piece of homework this semester. Tell the truth.”

He stepped into the light of the side-lamp that Heather had switched on earlier, looking terrifying as ever. His fists were clenched as he lunged forward, snatching the journal from the girl’s hands hastily. Heather’s eyes widened and she shut her before-gaping mouth to prevent the quiver of her lower lip. Her body sunk into the couch as her father began to scan the open page.

He squinted his eyes, having to bring the book closer to his face to fully understand what he was reading. The hands gripping the page faltered slightly as he read on. After a few more seconds, he slammed the book shut so aggressively that Heather _swore_ it could’ve caused a tremor in Australia. 

“Heather. Tell me this is fiction. This is not true, _right?”_ he asked through gritted teeth.

Heather’s eyes filled up with salty tears, threatening to spill over her scarlet tinted cheeks. She couldn’t look at her father. She couldn’t look at anything. She shut her eyes, the action working as a catalyst for the many tears built up on her waterline. They spilled over, running down her cheeks.

“Heather. Answer me _right now,”_ he spat, “Is the _dyke bullshit_ in this journal true?”

The girl took in the most painful breath she had ever inhaled. That word. All her life she had used it so maliciously because she was so insecure and afraid of people finding out who she really was, but now the secret had been uncovered. It didn’t feel good to finally open up and not live her life in a lie anymore, which contradicted what the underground ‘queer magazines’ had stated. It was the worst feeling in the whole world.

“It’s true. I wrote it,” she whispered, refusing to open her eyes.

Although all she saw was darkness, she heard her father take quick steps towards her. She forced her eyes open, and the first thing she saw was a hand coming down at full-speed, striking her across the cheek forcefully. There was silence, until her father took the spoon out of Heather’s coffee mug, throwing it at her head.

She screamed, bringing her own hand to her face, trying to soothe the burning agony.

“Get out,” her father said sternly.

“Huh?”

“You heard me. You’ve flown too close to the sun, punkin’. Get the hell out of my house!”

She couldn’t debate with him. She didn’t want to wake her mom, and God knows what else he’d do if she stayed any longer. She got up, legs shaking slightly as she went to grab her raincoat.

“And don’t you dare come back until you’ve fixed what’s wrong with you. I don’t know how you’re gonna do it, but you’re gonna get back on the Lord’s track or else you’re out of the damn house _permanently._ You hear me, _dyke?”_

“Yes, father.”

He grumbled a response, and Heather was out the door.

.

Heather spilled it all out to Veronica, excluding the part that mentioned her feelings for the latter. 

The brunette had two choices. She could allow all the pent up anger from the last seven years to tumble out of her lips and scream how horribly unfair it was that Heather Chandler had seemingly projected her own internalized homophobia onto her for the last almost-decade of her life, consequently ruining it. 

Her other option was to comfort Heather in what was most likely the darkest moment of her life and praise her for her courage to open up about something so personal. 

Veronica, being the extremely forgiving person she was, chose the latter.

She pulled Heather into a hug before she could stop herself, feeling the girl’s shower dampened hair drip onto her bare shoulders.

It took her a few seconds, but Heather soon settled into the hug, allowing her hands to travel to the small of Veronica’s back as tears trickled down both their cheeks. 

“I’m proud of you for telling me. I’d never have the balls to do that…” Veronica said, tightening the hug.

“At least you don’t have to,” Heather sighed, loosening it straight after. She pulled her arms away and walked over to Veronica’s bed, slumping down on it.

Once more, the energy in the room shifted, and this time, Heather was the one riddled with confusion.

“What?” she queried, and Veronica responded with a dry chuckle, sitting herself down beside the blonde on her bed.

“Quite ironic. You bully me for more than half of my life for allegedly liking girls, then you come out and tell me that _you_ like girls, and have no idea that I _actually_ like girls.”

Veronica spoke with faux-confidence. She sounded so proud of her sexuality at that moment - though internally, she loathed it. 

Heather gasped slightly.

“Are you serious?”

“Why would I lie about that…”

“I’m so sorry for making fun of you those years,” the blonde apologized, much later than she should’ve. “I was clearly just projecting my own lame-ass internalized issues onto you because I despise this part of me so much, and I guess I only recently came to terms with it - but that’s no excuse. I’m surprised you’re so… forgiving.”

Veronica shook her head, laughing a melancholy laugh, “I’m not going to shun out one of my own.”

“I feel so much worse now, though, cause you are actually gay, so those horrible things I said to you must’ve hurt _so_ bad.”

“That’s the past now. There are bigger things to worry about. Like; are you going to be safe?”

Heather let out a shaky breath, warm air escaping her lips and hitting Veronica’s face briefly. She shut her eyes for a second, allowing herself to think, before re-opening them.

“I don’t want to think about that just yet. Can we- can I sleep? I’m fucking exhausted and not in the place to make sensible decisions right now,” she rambled, leaning backward and allowing her slender back to hit the feather mattress.

Veronica nodded, trying to keep her gaze away from Heather’s bare stomach. Considering the brunette was shorter than the blonde, the pajamas she lent her were ever so slightly on the small side. Whenever Heather would raise her arms, _just_ enough skin would be revealed to drive Veronica crazy.

Heather, noticing that Veronica was taking a little longer to respond, added; “If that would… be okay with you?”

Veronica nodded, standing up and pulling the duvet back, “Of course.”

No more words were spoken that night. They shared Veronica’s bed, though there was an appropriate 30-centimeter gap separating both girls. 

It made Veronica’s mind shake, the way they could go from scornful enemies to close friends within mere hours.

The brunette tried to calm her breathing, but it seemed so loud in her ears. Heather fell asleep as soon as her strawberry blonde locks hit the pillows, but Veronica couldn’t say the same for herself.

It wasn’t until the sun began to rise outside the curtains did Veronica’s brain finally switch off and rest after frantically overworking itself for almost 24 hours straight.

.

“Good morning, Veronica!” Mrs. Sawyer shouted as her husband pushed open the door.

No response.

“That’s odd… It’s almost 11 o’clock.”

“Maybe she stayed the night at Lydia’s or Martha’s,” Mr. Sawyer suggested, “Although, she did call last night to say she was having people over…”

Mrs. Sawyer sighed and threw her woolen shawl over the coat hook.

“Check her bedroom, would you?” Mr. Sawyer asked.

She nodded and placed her purse down, making her way up the stairs, towards Veronica’s bedroom at the end of the second-floor hall. It was haunting - the silence that hung over Mrs. Sawyer as she slowly made her way to the end of the hall.

“Veronica?” she pondered, pushing the door open a crack. The hall light spilled into the brunette’s bedroom, and Mrs. Sawyer gasped when she saw the state of her daughter’s bed.

Veronica was in her bed, safe and sound, as her mother had hoped, however her legs were intertwined with a body she hadn’t seen in many, many years.

Mrs. Sawyer never asked Veronica what had happened between her and Heather seven years prior. She never asked why Heather stopped coming round for waffles every Sunday one day. 

So, instinctively, she decided it would be better not to ask why they were in bed together.

It was probably for the best.


	10. we can’t be by ourselves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw  
> sexual assault  
> brief homophobia 
> 
> well, it’s beginning
> 
> & veronica lowkey shit talks on the bible but it’s not like huge but i guess that could bother some of u ? atheist!veronica in this fic.

It was the morning after Mr. Chandler’s father threw his daughter out into the chilled December night. Heather slept over at Veronica’s, staying there for the rest of the day. The latter spent half of the day pleading with J.D over the phone, begging him to let Heather live with him until her father came to his senses. It was the perfect plan! J.D’s house was almost as spacious as Heather’s. There were at least three fully furnished bedrooms with beds that had never been slept in, _and_ his dad was only home once or twice a week.

“J.D, please. I can’t tell you why she was kicked out but it’s for good reason. You would understand if you knew…” Veronica spluttered whilst Heather watched, a hopeful glint in her eyes.

 _“She’s a lesbian, isn’t she?”_ J.D responded bluntly.

The brunette didn’t know how to answer. She shot Heather a look across the room. The strawberry-blonde had been pacing the floor whilst Veronica spoke. She paused and placed her hand on the corner of Veronica’s bed.

“Just tell him. What’s he gonna do? Be homophobic?” she whisper-yelled, eliciting a giggle from the brunette.

Veronica composed herself and turned her attention back to the telephone, “Yeah. But you can’t tell anyone. Okay?”

_“What’s in it for me?”_

“J.D…”

_“What? I’m not giving up my house to my tormenter for free!”_

Heather, with a surprisingly calm expression, strutted over to the phone by the wall, snatching it from Veronica’s hands.

“Believe it or not, Jesse James, a lot of closeted guys come to me and ask me to try n’ suck them straight. It never works, but I can give you their numbers.”

_“It’s a deal. Haul your stuff over later, and bring your phonebook.”_

“It’s great doing business with you. Goodbye.”

And with that, Heather placed the phone back on its hook and winked at an astonished Veronica.

“Heather Diana Kimberly Chandler _always_ negotiates.”

The two girls only went over to Heather’s place when they were sure her father was out. When her mother opened the door to them, it was evident in her expression that the news had been broken to her. Rather than taking a violent approach, she just stepped back and allowed her daughter to gather her things without saying a word.

Whilst the blonde packed her belongings upstairs, Veronica stood alone at the front door awkwardly whilst Mrs. Chandler stared her down.

“Miss Sawyer. It’s been a few years,” she said suddenly, lighting a cigarette from her pocket. “So are you her girlfriend or what? She had always mentioned your queer tendencies.”

Veronica, despite already being pale as a ghost, turned white at the comment. Her expression faltered, and she scratched the side of her head as she contemplated an answer.

“I’m not her girlfriend,” she grumbled, her gaze moving slightly when she realized Heather was standing a few paces behind her mom, watching the conversation with a cardboard box in her hands. Seeing her solemn expression lit a flame in Veronica, causing her to snap at Mrs. Chandler, “And I’m not gay, I’m just not an ignorant _asshole_ who would boot her own family just because of some primeval scripture _bullshit.”_

As soon as she had finished speaking, Heather pushed past her mom, and the two girls sprinted to J.D’s car which had been waiting at the end of the drive.

“You’re revolting. The both of you!”

“And you haven’t slept in the same room as daddy since ‘78. We all have our flaws!” Heather shouted back scornfully, before slamming the car door shut. J.D hit the accelerator and they zoomed down the suburban street in fits of laughter.

“That was so badass of you, Sawyer. I didn’t know you had it in you,” she teased, turning to Veronica. She was careful not to knock the cardboard box out of her lap. It was difficult trying to fit seventeen years of your life into a single box.

“Thanks,” the brunette replied, breathless.

They drove in silence, other than the quiet buzz of ‘Open Your Heart’ by Madonna playing through the car cassette player. Veronica rolled down her window a crack, feeling her body heat up under the rush of being so close to Heather in the back passenger seats. The rough wind blew her hair into her lipgloss, and Heather watched with a smirk as she tried to tuck it behind her ear.

“Do you need to tie it back?” asked the blonde, taking Veronica off guard.

The brunette’s heart disintegrated into nothingness when she realized that Heather was offering her none other than _the_ red scrunchie to tie her hair back.

“Heather I-”

“Just take it!”

“I will happily take it,” J.D interjected, being shut down by Heather almost instantly.

Veronica finally took the scrunchie from Heather’s grasp, but not before her face could turn the same color as it. She pulled her thick hair back and wrapped the soft material around thrice before leaning her head on the window. So much for getting air.

Heather cleared her throat, beginning to speak, “So Mara’s throwing this party-”

“I’m in!” J.D exclaimed, before Heather could even finish her sentence.

“So Mara’s throwing this party,” she repeated, audibly frustrated, “It’s a get-together at her place to party before we all fuck off for winter break. I think you should all come. You can bring Martha, Lydia, and Thursday too!”

“It’s _Wednesday,_ Heather. And are you sure we are welcome there?”

“Sorta! Mara loves you, Ronnie, and Duke just needs to… get used to you. She won’t dare touch you if I tell her not to. It’s on Saturday. We can get ready together… I mean, if you want…”

Veronica could’ve sworn her senses were deceiving her. She saw Heather bite her lip nervously, she heard her voice quiver slightly when she spoke, and she could feel Heather’s body heating up.

“Yeah. Cool.”

“Cool.”

.

_Dear Diary,_

_I feel stupid writing in here these days. I feel like I’ve changed so much in a matter of weeks - maybe even less than that. I feel a million times more mature whilst also feeling like a child all over again._

_Heather and I being friends feels so write but so wrong at the same time. It’s like… finding out your mom isn’t your real mom and your real mom is your favorite celebrity, So it would be amazing but also feel wrong._

_Sorry. That was a crappy analogy. You get what I mean, though?_

_According to J.D, Heather is a surprisingly pleasant guest. It’s only been one night, though, They’re gonna be like enemy siblings within two days. She’s coming round later today and she’s bringing her giant makeup box again. I don’t know why she owns so much, though. She’s perfect without it._

_My last party with her wasn’t the best (her birthday party,) cause I basically got roofied and nearly ended up being Kurt and Ram’s toy for the night. That aside, I did get to be carried in Heather’s arms. Anyways. Parties usually don’t go well for me, as I have stated time and time again, but something about this one feels different. I always say that though, ugh. Anyways I should go and have lunch before Heather arrives._

_Signing off,  
Veronica._

.

“Here we are again,” smiled Heather, prodding her face with a powder-covered sponge. “Things have changed so much.”

Veronica looked up at Heather through the mirror. The brunette had been painting her nails black when the blonde’s comment took her off guard. Carefully, she blew on the still slightly damp nail polish, before turning to Heather.

“I was thinking the same thing,” she admitted. _“God,_ can you believe we only have one more semester until we leave?”

“I’ve been waiting for the end of highschool since before I even started high school,” Heather snorted, pumping her mascara wand into its container. “If I don’t get into Harvard or Yale, what’s the point.”

Veronica raised a brow. Did Heather seriously believe she’d be admitted to one of those schools with her attendance rate?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Heather began, drawing Veronica away from her thoughts as if she had just read them, _“‘How will Heather get into an Ivy League with a 48% attendance rate? And how does she study when she always parties?’_ Well, Sawyer, I have an average GPA of 4.4, and my aunt, the CEO of Chandler bookstores, is paying my way in. All these schools want is money. It’s the sad truth. You shouldn’t have to worry, though. You have the second-highest GPA at Westerburg. You and Lydia bring up the school's entire average.”

The brunette chuckled and turned back to the vanity, opening the nail polish bottle once again, “You know, if someone had told me that Heather Chandler would also be going to Harvard a month ago, I’d probably break down crying.”

The comment wiped the content look from Heather’s face, and suddenly a sense of discomfort loomed over the two girls.

“Anyways um- I don’t have anything to wear tonight,” said Veronica in an attempt to ease the awkwardness. She breathed out a sigh of relief when the corners of Heather’s mouth curled up. “Do you, by any chance, have something I can wear. A wise person once told me: _‘Never repeat an outfit twice. Unless you are poor.’”_

“Well, considering your history of retching at parties, I happened to pack a spare outfit for you justin case,” she winked, pulling an outfit from her night bag. “But, if you wear this, you _cannot_ throw up. No drinking tonight.”

“I’ll try.”

Veronica instantly gaped at the dress when she laid her eyes on it. It would leave little to the imagination, but in the best way possible. It was short, skin-tight, and baby blue. It was embroidered with dozens of dark blue roses, stems and thorns included. The brunette had never seen anything like it, but it was perfect.

“If this wasn’t so slutty, I’d wear it to prom,” she joked as Heather shoved her in the ensuite to change.

The blonde’s heart did cartwheels as she heard Veronica’s small grunts from the other side of the door. The dress would definitely be a pain to put on, but Heather couldn’t wait to see the girl in such a tight dress. Tonight, Heather wanted to show Veronica off. It wasn’t like they were dating or anything, but Heather just wanted to show all the clueless boys that she was closer to Sawyer than they would ever be.

“My neck is feeling bare,” Veronica shouted from behind the door, turning the key and undoing the look as a silent gesture to invite Heather in.

Heather pushed it open gently, and holy fuck shit mother fucking bitch cunt whore bitch fucker.

Veronica looked beautiful.

She was standing there awkwardly, as per usual. Her feet were turned in to one another, clad in socks that read the days of the week. Despite it being Saturday, the left sock read ‘Monday’ and the right one ‘Thursday.’ Her arms were folded over her stomach, and Heather found herself gliding over to her slowly, hands reaching out to grab the brunette’s arms, pulling them to the sides of her body.

Heather looked her up and down, tugging on her lower lip. The dress looked _perfect._

“Hello? Did you hear what I said? My neck looks bare!” Veronica repeated, causing Heather to whip her head up so they stood eye-to-eye. “I need a necklace.”

Heather looked down at her own chest, realizing that her silver chain necklace appeared slightly out of place against the rest of her outfit, especially considering she was wearing a golden set of earrings and bracelet. Gold and silver were not to be mixed.

“Here,” she stated, unclasping her necklace and dangling it in front of Veronica’s chestnut eyes.

“Heather I can’t have that… It’s Vivienne Westwood… that must’ve been fifty dollars at least!”

“Don’t care. Turn around and lift your hair up.”

Veronica complied hesitantly, lifting her thick waves above her head, giving Heather access to the back of her neck.

In another life, Heather would kiss her neck, pull her waist against her own, and mark her up like her own property.

But this was the real world. This was 1988. This was Ohio.

“I feel like… like a _God.”_

“Welcome to the club, angel.”

.

Heather and Veronica arrived to the party ‘fashionably late,’ and despite the latter’s instructions to the rest of the group to do the same, they had already arrived at Heather McNamara’s place by the time Heather and Veronica got there. The music couldn’t be heard from outside the house, but once they all followed Heather inside, the booming bass filled their ears.

“Veronica, you look beautiful tonight,” Lydia said, taking her friend’s hand gently.

The brunette smiled in response, but Heather suddenly barged between them.

“I actually picked the outfit out for her. Also, I did her makeup for her,” she said rather aggressively. It was a change of tone. It was rather old-Heather of her.

“Cool?” Lydia chuckled, walking away with Wednesday. They headed for the snack table hand-in-hand.

“What was that all about?” asked Veronica, nudging the blonde gently.

A smile returned to Heather’s face, and she took Veronica’s hand into her own, “Let’s go find Mac and Duke.”

They weaved their way through the crowds of people, leaving J.D and Martha standing by the entrance, watching the party from the sidelines.

“What an odd pair,” J.D snorted, sipping his beer bottle which he had brought from home.

“You should’ve seen them back in elementary school. They came in a pair… Like Han Solo and Leia,” Martha explained, leaning against the wall and watching the crowd in front of her, “Veronica was heartbroken when Heather just… left her out of nowhere. She’s had crazy abandonment issues since then. She was hesitant to be friends with Lydia at first because she didn’t want to come across as ‘a predator,’ which is not something that someone at our age should have to worry about.”

“Yeah. The only predators at Westerburg are Kurt and Ram.”

“Exactly! Well, I blame Heather Duke. Chandler’s parents are conservative, but Duke’s parents are _conservative_ conservative. Her dad works for Ronald Reagan. Duke’s parents poisoned Duke, and Duke poisoned Chandler.”

“Do you trust her?” queried J.D, his expression sad at the story of his best friend’s heartbreak.

“I know that Heather loves Veronica, deep down in the bottom of that stone-cold heart, but she has this image that is so important to her. It’s all down to whether she would risk her status for her and Ronnie’s friendship.”

J.D sighed, but his ears pricked up at the change of song. He yanked Martha towards the center of the room, where people were violently bouncing their heads to the beat.

“It’s ‘Nasty Girl’ by Vanity 6! Iconic! Let’s dance, baby!”

On the other side of the crowd, Veronica hovered awkwardly behind Heather Chandler whilst the latter chatted with the other Heathers. Veronica didn’t consider herself a wallflower, per se, but there were moments when she felt like she had no choice but to be. After years of rejection and awkward interactions with the Westerburg hierarchy, she took it upon herself to fade into the background.

“What do you think, Ronnie?” McNamara’s voice snapped her out of her daze, though Veronica had no clue what she was asking.

“Sorry… I was distracted. What did you say?” the brunette responded, earning a dissatisfied glare from Duke.

“Awe! Were you distracted by a boyyy?” McNamara grinned, rocking back and forth on her heels like a toddler in a toy store.

Chandler suddenly shot Veronica a look, not so different from the one she gave Lydia ten minutes prior. The brunette brushed off the look.

“High school boys aren’t really my thing,” she chuckled nervously. It wasn’t _exactly_ a lie.

 _“We know,”_ Duke muttered under her breath, inaudible to Veronica, but Chandler heard.

“What did you say, Heather?” she said, towering over the green-clad girl.

“I said… Uhh… What _is_ your thing then, Veronica?”

The brunette bit her lip, conjuring up an answer that wouldn’t result in mockery for the remainder of her senior year.

“Westerburg boys are trash… I’m waiting for a Johnny Depp or River Phoenix fantasy to come into my life.”

Veronica then heard Chandler snort at the sound of her blatant lies, but the latter quickly covered it up with a few coughs so Duke wouldn’t suspect anything.

After a few more minutes, Heather and Veronica drew themselves away from the others. The awkwardness became too overbearing, and they both needed a breath of fresh air. The strawberry blonde led Veronica out onto McNamara’s porch where she then offered the girl a cigarette. Veronica took up the offer, and soon they were smoking together and staring out at the foggy street in front of them.

“Are you doing anything for winter break?” Heather asked the girl, making small talk with her like she was a stranger all of a sudden.

“Not really. We have Christmas dinner on the 25th, and mom and dad go out for drinks on the 31st, but that’s about it. We’re sorta cut off from the rest of the family. I’m not quite sure why,” Veronica explained, exhaling smoke into her lungs, warming her up body. “And you?”

“Well, I was supposed to be going to a ski resort in the Swiss Alps but… I guess that isn’t happening.”

The brunette winced, and she shuffled closer to the blonde. No more than five centimetres closer, but just enough to show her that she cared. Part of her wanted to offer her to spend Christmas and New Year’s at her place, but she didn’t want to overstep. Perhaps she would ask another day.

“A dollar for your thoughts?” Heather chirped, and Veronica turned to her swiftly. The former was grinning sheepishly.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a penny.”

“Huh?”

“The phrase goes: ‘A _penny_ for your thoughts’ - not a dollar.”

“Whatever,” she dismissed, putting her cigarette out on the cold concrete below them, “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back…”

Veronica found herself wanting to walk back inside, get shitfaced, and enjoy her senior year like everyone else, but she didn’t want Heather to come back from her bathroom break lost and disappointed. Would she even care that much? Veronica was unsure. Either way, she stayed put.

‘The King of Rock N’ Roll’ by Prefab Sprout was playing on the other side of the door, and Veronica could hear it faintly. She hummed the melody softly, not wanting to sing in case her dreadful singing voice was heard by someone nearby.

A gust of warm air hit the back of her neck. Veronica assumed it was Chandler returning from her bathroom break, but she was confused as to how she came and went so fast. However, when she turned around, it wasn’t Chandler. It was Duke.

“Where’s your new best friend?” Duke sneered, taking Veronica by surprise when she sat down beside her. “You got another cigarette?”

“Uh, yeah… Here. I don’t have a light, though.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got my own.”

Duke guarded the cigarette with her hand as she lit it, before taking a puff and looking into the night sky. She didn’t look scornful like she usually did. There was a look in the depth of her eyes that Veronica couldn’t quite place. The blue-clad girl didn’t want to move a muscle, though. Since Chandler and her were on good terms now, that made Duke her primary oppressor.

“What’s wrong with you, Sawyer? You haven’t breathed in a whole minute,” she smirked, shifting her gaze to Veronica’s unsettled expression.

“Just confused as to why you’re out here. I thought you hated me.”

“I didn’t come out here for _you,_ obviously. These guys were getting handsy and I needed a break,” she exhaled shakily, “and I don’t hate you.”

Veronica laughed sarcastically, “Yeah right.”

“I don’t. You just piss me off.”

Veronica could ask why. She could go off on a rant about how she had never done anything to hurt Duke in her lifetime so she didn’t understand where the consistent loathing came from. She could slap her, or bruise her shins with her Doc Martens, but she didn’t.

“I piss myself off too,” she said instead, earning an unadulterated chuckle in response.

With all the nerves from being in such close proximity to Duke, Veronica almost didn’t notice that ten minutes had passed, and Chandler was yet to return from the bathroom.

“If you don’t mind me, I need to go check on something,” she excused herself, putting out her cigarette and rushing inside.

Part of her knew that she was being irrational and that ten minutes really wasn’t that lengthy of a time to take at the bathroom, especially when semi-drunk, though the other part of her was concerned. She knew what might happen to girls when left alone at parties. She had a first-hand experience of being utterly alone, stuck in a nightmare fuelling Kurt and Ram sandwich.

The downstairs bathroom door was wide open, with a couple making out on top of the sink. Veronica assumed Heather wasn’t there, so she headed upstairs where the crowds of people were more spread out. The house was unfamiliar territory to her, so she found herself peeking through each keyhole in attempt to locate the bathroom.

The second door on the left side appeared to have no  
keyhole, but she knocked on it a few times just in case.

“Heather? Are you in there?”

There was silence.

“Heather-” she was interrupted when the door opened a crack, revealing J.D. He looked irritated. Veronica caught the glimpse of dark skin in the bathroom mirror behind her friend, and her eyes widened.

“Is that _Dennis?”_ she gasped, her lips curling upwards against her will.

“Shut up and do not speak a word, kapeesh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now go find another room elsewhere…”

He slammed the door on her, blowing a slight chilly draft onto her face.

She had almost given up looking on the second floor. If Heather wasn’t in either of the bathrooms, she had probably wandered off into the backyard to grab a drink or dip her toes into MacNamara’s heated pool.

Just as she was about to head downstairs, she heard a whimper from behind a nearby door. It was a door which she had tried to peek into earlier, but the keyhole view had been obstructed by what appeared to be a coat on a hook. The whimper she heard wasn’t a pleasureful one like you would usually hear from behind a bedroom door at a party - it sounded timid and fearful.

Veronica took it upon herself to push the door open a crack and make sure whoever was behind it was okay.

They were not okay.

It was Heather.

Her head was being forced between a guy’s legs. The brunette had never seen his face before, leading her to believe that he was yet another privileged college boy that never processed the rule of consent and the meaning of the word ‘no.’

Thankfully, he didn’t realize Veronica had entered, so she was able to yank him away from the blonde and shove him across the room without any interruption.

“Touch her again and I fucking break you, you hear me?” she spat, grabbing Heather’s hand and pulling her in protectively. She could see that the blonde was ditsy and not fully aware of her surroundings. The brunette squeezed her hand for security, before turning back to the boy who was now on the floor, grinning sinisterly.

“And what are you gonna do? You’re pushing 5’3 and your bones are probably as strong as uncooked spaghetti. You don’t scare me at all, little girl,” he pouted in an attempt to tease the girl.

“Oh yeah? Well tell that to my sensei,” she shouted, jumping forward and kicking him hard in the balls. He cowered backward, shrieking in pain. “Cause I’m a fucking black belt.”

Then, she was pulling Heather out the door, dragging her through the crowds of sweaty teenagers, yanking her outside and leading her towards her car that was parked at the end of the street.

“We’re going home,” she said sternly.

“But aren’t you drunk?” Heather peeped. It was the first thing she had said in a while. She was vulnerable and shaky; too much so to take the wheel.

“No. All I had was a Pepsi Cola and a smoke,” she assured, pushing the blonde into the front passenger seat.

She tried to compose herself as she walked from the passenger side to the driver’s seat, wiping a single tear from her eye before sitting down behind the wheel.

“You’re gonna come to mine, we’re gonna wipe off your makeup, you can have a wash if you want, then I’ll give you pajamas and you can relax.”

“It’s barely past midnight, and what are we gonna tell the others? We should just go back inside, it’s fine!” Heather grumbled, folding her arms and frowning.

“It’s not fine, Heather! God knows what could’ve happened to you if I hadn’t found you when I did. We are going home and it is not up for debate!”

“Bitch.”

Veronica didn’t even care about the snarky insult - she just wanted her friend to be safe. She revved up the engine and began to drive down the street at a faster pace than she usually would, turning sharp corners swiftly, causing Heather to be jolted around a lot.

Ten minutes later, they arrived at Veronica’s. The brunette led the blonde towards the front door by hovering her hand over the small of her back.

The warm air that surrounded them when Veronica slammed the front door was one of the most relieving feelings the brunette had ever felt. December was really kicking her ass.

Without a word, they padded into brunette’s bedroom, and Veronica removed Heather’s makeup in utter silence. The only sounds to be heard were the buzzing of the dryer from the kitchen, Veronica’s heavy breaths, and Heather’s loud gulping every so often.

At one point, Veronica accidentally pressed a cotton pad against Heather’s eyelid down too hard, and the latter flinched, shuffling away from her.

“What’s your damage, Sawyer?” she groaned, pushing the brunette’s hand away from her face.

“I’m not taking any mouth from you tonight, Heather. I’m trying to take care of you!”

Heather’s eyes softened, filling with unwanted tears. Her back hit Veronica’s mattress, and she mumbled an almost inaudible ‘I know.’

She began to cry. Her tears were heavy and they glittered under the white lights in the brunette’s room. Her cheeks reddened and her lower lids swelled as more and more tears fell down her cheeks.

“Why is it that the only attention I get is from shitty boys? I just want a girl to come to me… with the same look of lust in her eyes that those guys have. Except, with girls… I want their lust. I want to want someone who wants me. I’m so lonely,” she wept, burying her face into the blue duvet. Her tears made wet spots on the cotton material, and Veronica tried to contain a chuckle when the blonde tried to blow them dry.

“I wish I could comfort you and make a promise that you’ll find someone but, I’ve been struggling with the same thing for years. I just feel like no one in the world will lay a finger on me. Not now, at least.”

Heather’s expression changed suddenly as if she had conjured up a master plan. She wiped her tears in the crook of her elbow before sitting up so she and Veronica were face-to-face once more.

“I’m so touch-starved… and so are you, right?” she questioned with a smirk growing on her face.

“I mean- yeah.”

“So I have a proposition for you…”

Dear Lord.

“I’m sure we both have a lot of… pent up desire… considering neither of us have ever had the chance to actually like… be with a girl before,” Heather explained, “and so how about tonight… just tonight… we get it all out… and then everything will be back to normal, and we will be able to live just fine until we each find ourselves a girlfriend?”

“Get what out?” Veronica whispered.

“You know...” Heather began to move closer to the brunette. They became so close that Heather’s warm breath could be felt against her face. “I need some sexual relief,” she placed her hand on Veronica’s thigh, “Don’t you?”

Veronica tried to hold it back, but it slipped out. She _whined._ As humiliated as she became, she was also extremely turned on. The latter thankfully canceled out the former.

“We- we should make some rules, though…” Veronica managed to say.

So that’s what they did. They spent the next five minutes forming some brief rules before they did the deed. It was important they had boundaries. This was a ‘friends with benefits arrangement’ - nothing more. Zero strings attached. It was just a girl helping a girl out.

_No kissing on the lips._

__

_No marks above the belly button._

__

_No moaning out one another’s names - that’s too intimate._

__

_Just for tonight_

__

_Tell no one._

__

“Well, that leaves the big question then,” Heather sneered.

__

“Which is?”

__

“Who’s on top?”

__

Veronica bit her lip, before placing her hand on Heather’s clavicle, pushing her back onto the bed and swinging her leg around her.

__

“I think the answer to that is quite obvious,” she husked, placing her finger over Heather’s lips, “Now, relax.”

__

Veronica’s hands were on her hips, then, yanking her closer and closer. Heather didn’t protest. The brunette slipped a leg between both of Heather’s thighs. It was promising. The blonde groaned outwardly.

__

She’s good, Heather thinks.

__

She’s not worried anymore, not when Veronica leans towards her, drags her lips across her neck, gently enough not to mark, careful not to cross the line.

__

The brunette pulled away to face Heather once more when she reached the bottom of her dress and pressed a finger to her chest.

__

“Off,” she demanded, and Heather complied instantly. “Good girl.”

__

Then Heather moaned. It came from the back of her throat, and it was louder than it should’ve been. Veronica smirked, then she tells Heather to remove her panties but keep her bra on. It looked good on her.

__

She’s spread out across the bed ethereally. Veronica wants to _ruin_ her.

__

She ran her hands up and down the guitar-like curve of Heather’s hips, and the blonde found herself growing impatient.

__

“Just get to it, will you?”

__

“Don’t get bossy. You’ll enjoy it when the time comes.”

__

Suddenly, Heather became an orchestra of moans when Veronica’s hand slipped between her legs. She was soaked. The bedsheets would definitely have to be washed afterward. Her wetness coated Veronica’s fingers, dampening the sheets more and more with each flick of the brunette’s thumb against her swollen clit.

__

“Feel nice?” Veronica asks smugly, earning nothing but a pleasureful grunt back.

__

She pressed on further, curling her fingers inside of the blonde and feeling the way she soaked her down to her wrist. Heather’s walls tightened against her fingers, leaving Veronica to wonder how many times she has actually been touched by someone else. She wondered how many orgasms she had ever had in her life from another person. The answer was likely near to none.

__

Veronica knew she would have to give her the best orgasm of her life. She had fantasized about this moment far too many times for her to fuck it up. She only had one shot at this, and she had to give her all the pleasure in the world without kissing her. It was going to be difficult, but she had a goal, and it was to make her come, make her scream.

__

The brunette began to thrust her fingers in a rhythm, causing Heather to instinctively bring her hand up to Veronica’s upper arm, gripping the soft flesh as she ground her hips upwards.

__

“So good…” she moaned, biting her lip and tossing her head to the side. Her thighs quivered with the sensation of being so close to tipping point. “I’m nearly- I’m gonna…”

__

Knowing she was about to go over the edge, Veronica placed her thumb back onto her clit, rubbing circles whilst maintaining the thrusting rhythm from before.

__

The small gesture was all it took to finish Heather off, and soon enough her hips were buckling under her friend’s touch. Her hips rolled into the mattress, and her eyes rolled into her head.

__

Veronica knew this was the best orgasm of Heather’s life.

__

“Fuck… fuck… yeah… Ronnie… _Veronica.”_

__

And just like that, one rule had already been broken.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the dress in question:  
> https://www.pinterest.com/amp/pin/359373245262673266/
> 
> also please comment and give kudos ): i need a confidence boost


	11. disobedience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two girls find themselves breaking every single rule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi this is kinda short but i really like this chapter a lot  
> the ending is super personal to me so i hope u like it haha
> 
> also thank you guys for the really sweet response to my fic on tumblr. it means the world to me and it encourages me to keep writing. big mwah!

One time. It was meant to be one time. One night of much needed sexual relief. But it happened again. And again. And it didn’t stop.

~~_Just for tonight_ ~~

The morning after the first time, Heather woke Veronica up by laying soft kisses along her hips. Instinctively, the brunette pulled the girl’s head further up her body, holding her delicately by her chin. Heather’s eyeline was now level with Veronica’s collarbone, and as much as she tried to contain the urge, she couldn’t resist attaching her lips to the porcelain skin. Veronica moaned, throwing her head back. She tugged her lip between her teeth, and the reaction only fuelled the blonde to go harder. Suddenly, teeth became involved. She bit and sucked, merely to drive Veronica insane. After five minutes, the entire space between Veronica’s chin and ribs were covered in dark red lovebites.

~~_No marks above the belly button._ ~~

The next night, Heather invited Veronica over to show off her newly decorated room at J.D’s place. Instead of giving her a real bedroom, he gave her the entire attic. She had all this massive space all to herself. However, the best part was: the walls were soundproof. Albeit, the soundproof walls didn’t stop the house from shaking.

“What were you doing up there? You sound like you’re building a fucking time machine.” J.D questioned Veronica, frightening her by appearing out of nowhere when she came downstairs for a glass of water.

She contemplated what to say next, furrowing her brows and fiddling with the plastic cup she had grabbed from the cupboard, “You won’t tell?”

“Nu-uh,” he swore, wrapping his pinkie around Veronica’s.

“We were fucking,” she rushed out.

“Who’s on top?”

“Shut up.”

~~_Tell no one._ ~~

Three days later, Heather was riding Veronica’s fingers on the latter’s couch, their foreheads pressed together like a magnet to metal. Like there was some invisible force stopping them from pulling away. Heather rolled her hips down to the rhythm of Veronica’s thrusts, and the room became filled with ecstatic moans from both girls. The blonde whimpered and whined as she felt herself growing closer to her climax. Veronica uttered words of encouragement and praise, and suddenly Heather looked her straight in the eye.

This was the _one rule_ that Veronica _swore_ she wouldn’t allow herself to break. 

But it was too late.

Because Heather was prying her lips open with her tongue and Veronica felt her heart doing summersaults and backflips in her chest. And Heather tasted _so_ damn good. It was a clash of teeth and tongue, so much so that their noses bumped a few times. It was warm, passionate, and perfect. There was nothing softer than Heather Chandler’s cherry red lips The kiss lasted for minutes, but it didn’t feel like any longer than a few brief yet heated seconds. 

~~_No kissing on the lips._ ~~

.

_Dear Diary,_

_Why do I have 0% impulse control? I used to occasionally let my guard down once or twice with different people, but now, when I’m with Heather, there IS no guard. It feels so good though. So damn good._

_But it also feels really bad. Because how am I supposed to adhere to the ‘no strings attached’ rule when I’m falling for her? How is it meant to remain ‘friends with benefits’ when I’ve been yearning for us to be more than friends this entire time? It’s going to drive me to insanity, I can feel it. But what’s worse? Is telling Heather I LIKE like her and having her ditch me completely somewhat better than getting to kiss and touch her constantly, knowing that it’ll never be more than that. Fuck. I need a therapist._

_Actually no, I don’t need a therapist. I need Wednesday Addams._

_Signing off,  
Veronica._

.

Veronica gently pressed her pointer finger onto the doorbell once, twice, then a third time. She took a step back after the third attempt and waited for someone to answer.

To the brunette’s surprise, a young-looking boy opened the door to her. He didn’t look older than fourteen, and he was rather short. He made up for his lack of height in width, however. He was slightly chubby, to the point that his gut poked through his striped shirt.

“You’re not Lydia…” was the first thing he said, raising a bushy eyebrow.

“No,” Veronica affirmed nervously, “I’m not.”

“So who are you?”

“I’m Veronica… Sawyer; a friend of Wednesday’s. Is she home… by any chance?”

“I’m her brother, Pugsley. And yes, she’s home. You can come in.”

The brunette puffed out a sigh of relief, stepping into the house opposite her own. The foyer's shape was exactly the same as her own, though it had been decorated much differently. The walls were a murky shade of green, brown and black. There was a gloomy vibe to her surroundings.

“Her bedroom is on the top floor. Keep going upstairs and you might find her someday,” Pugsley added, before cruising into what Veronica assumed to be the kitchen, going out of sight.

 _"Um, okay,”_ she thought, walking towards a large central staircase. The steps were wooden and carpeted in a bold red. They were also sinisterly creaky, so she made her way up them with hesitance.

After reaching the next floor, she was failing to find another staircase. Suddenly, she walked into an abnormally tall man. She jumped backward, thankful that she didn’t scream.

“If you’re looking for Wednesday’s room, the staircase is in the corner,” he smiled, turning his body and pointing towards a narrow spiral staircase. After a few seconds of observation, Veronica concluded that he looked like Frankenstein. His face was long, cheekbones defined and eyes sunken in. Like a corpse.

Veronica forced out a shaky _thank you_ before making her way up the stairs he had been pointing at.

These stairs were even creakier, and the brunette found herself worrying that she had entered the wrong house. What if she had invaded the house of the mysterious _Zodiac Killer?_ She quickly brushed off the ludicrous thought.

The staircase was steep, and a narrow wooden door stood at the top. Veronica knocked on it gently.

“Hello… It’s Veronica… Is Wednesday inside?”

Wednesday opened the door instantly, her expression confused. The brunette quickly noticed that she was wearing Lydia’s black fluffy socks. How quaint.

“Hi… I need your help.”

Wednesday led the girl towards her double bed, sitting her down and closing her bedroom door promptly.

“Why did you decide to come to me rather than Lydia, Martha or J.D? Surely they would be of more help, considering you have known them for a significantly lengthier time than I?” Wednesday questioned, sitting herself down on a stack of old books opposite the bed.

“Well, Lydia always drones on about how wise you are, and how you seem to have an answer to everything. Also, I guess it’s good to have a non-bias opinion on some things.” Veronica then took in a deep breath, beginning to explain her situation, “So… I’ve been having this ‘friends with benefits' thing with this… _girl-”_

“Heather Chandler, I’m assuming. Anyways, continue…”

“How did you- _Anyways._ We’ve been having a _lot_ of ‘no strings attached’ sex, but the thing is, I’ve had a huge crush on her for like… a couple of months now. I thought I would be able to fuck her without falling for her, cause we set up all these rules, but we’ve already broken _all_ of them. I don’t want to stop being her friend and lose the privilege of kissing her and touching her, but if I continue hooking up with her with all these bottled up feelings, It’s going to swallow me whole.”

Fuck. It felt like she said it all in one breath.

Wednesday hummed gently, taking in the overload of information. She could sense Veronica’s solace in being able to come clean, so she gave the girl a few seconds to revel in it before speaking.

“Your situation appears to be a very common occurrence with same-sex relationships. It can be difficult to overcome, and usually, in a scenario like this, I would recommend you talk it out with your friend, but I understand that it isn’t as simple as that when your friend is Heather Chandler. My main advice to you is to either keep your distance, which is extremely difficult so I think you would prefer my other word of advice.”

“Shoot.”

“If you feel a spark, like a sincerely genuinely powerful shared sentiment of lust between you two, then she probably shares mutual anxieties with you right now. Romantic tension is seldom one-sided. Who was the one who inputted the idea of the rules in the first place?” 

“Me,” Veronica answered, her tone curious as to where Wednesday was going with this.

“And who was the first to break the rules?”

_"Heather.”_

_Oh._ Well, that was easy.

“So, to elaborate on that, you can either act like her girlfriend by doing things like making food for her, buying her items, sitting in her lap, kissing her beyond the bedroom etcetera, etcetera, until she begins to catch on and starts to talk to _you_ about it, or you can straight up talk to her first. The latter would be the most efficient but perhaps more anxiety-inducing. You aren’t the most forward person I know, so I recommend the first option. You could also write a letter explaining how you feel, and give it to her when you feel the time is right.”

Veronica felt herself warm up, and she found herself lunging towards Wednesday, embracing the latter in a loose, slightly awkward embrace. It didn’t last, the brunette pulling away when she realized that Wednesday wasn’t reciprocating the hug at all.

“You are a genius, Addams,” Veronica beamed, initially saying it to ease the discomfort in the room, but genuinely meaning it. “Your advice is so helpful… I feel like you’re a forty-year-old in a teenager’s body!”

“Perhaps I am.”

“Haha…” the brunette gulped, “Right… Well, I’m going to go home then.”

“Goodbye.”

.

Heather Duke had invited McNamara and Chandler over for movie night, just to see them one last time before she flew off to Switzerland for her ski vacation. The girl lived a mile out of town, and her parents had to lie about their address for her to be able to attend Westerberg. No one understood why, though. There were more high-grade schools in her area. Westerberg didn’t have the _best_ reputation.

Due to Duke living out of town, Heather Chandler would always have to drive there in her dad’s car, or be driven by one of her parents. That wasn’t possible now, though. Her dad would’ve never allowed her to take the car with her after being kicked out. It was far too expensive.

Consequently, she found herself being driven by J.D to Duke’s house that day. She had asked the boy if she could go alone, but he didn’t trust anyone to take his prestigious wheel. 

“Either I drive you, or you walk.” - is what he had stated.

She gave in eventually. It was only a fifteen-minute drive, after all.

What she was not expecting, however, was the disgusted look on Duke’s face when she stepped through her front door.

“Please tell me why John Wayne Gacy drove you here? Did you two hook up…” the brunette said, cupping a hand over her mouth in a mimic gagging motion.

“Did you eat a brain tumor for breakfast? Of _course_ we didn’t hook up,” she stated the obvious, putting up her demon queen facade whilst debating in her head whether or not she should tell the truth. The number of questions that would be launched at her if she declared that she had been kicked out would be overwhelming, although it would be even harder to maintain a lie. “I’m living with him right now.”

“Are you dating? Macnamara chirped in, almost sounding excited.

“Of course she isn’t dating him, Heather. Heather doesn’t date!” Duke grumbled.

“I’m living with him, cause my parents kicked me out,” she sniffed, looking down at the floor to avoid the change in her friends’ expressions.

What was she going to do if they asked? If they said ‘why,’ she would be at a loss. She had nothing. She felt her body sink into the floor as she waited for one of the girls to reply.

“They kicked you out because of your birthday party? I didn’t think you trashed your place that badly, and you cleaned it up very well,” Mcnamara frowned, her voice laced with sympathy.

Thank God. Chandler had never felt so relieved. Her birthday party was the _perfect_ cover-up. She had to remain her mournful composure without springing into the air with glee.

She felt Macnamara’s petite hand come to rest on her shoulder, and she looked up. Both friends looked at her with pitiful expressions, but Duke remained somewhat perplexed.

“So why are you staying with _J.D?”_

“I know he dresses homeless, but he’s really rich. Sawyer begged him to let me stay at his place, cause he’s got like five spare rooms. So I’m living there now.”

“And his parents are letting you?”

“His mom’s not alive, and his dad’s never home. He was there one time, for dinner, and he thought I was really hot, so I don’t think he minds.”

The golden-blonde girl surged forward, wrapping her arms around Heather in a comforting embrace.

“I’m sorry, Heather.”

“It is what it is, Heather. Now, what movie are we gonna watch? It better not be shit like the last few.”

Duke grabbed a disc from the hallway table, waving around the others’ faces.

“I rented _Fame!”_ she exclaimed, and Macnamara squealed excitedly.

The night went much better than Chandler expected. They all laid off the alcohol for once and just spent their time watching movies and sheepishly shouting at the terrible acting on the screen.  
All Duke and Mac could think about was how nice Heather was acting. She was just being so genuine. For the first time in a while, she acted like a friend rather than an employer. It left the two girls wondering what changed.

Little did they know, Veronica Sawyer was the one to thank for that.

.

_Dear Heather…_

“No, that’s too cheesy-”

~~_Dear Heather_ ~~

_To Heather_

Veronica was writing Heather a letter to explain how she felt, just as Wednesday had suggested. The likeliness of the brunette actually giving her crush the letter was about one percent, but she knew it would feel better just to write it all out of her system.

_This letter won’t ever get to you, but maybe that’s for the best. I just want to say that I like you. Like, romantically. Hooking up with you every night is amazing, but I want more. I know that I can’t have my cake and eat it, but it hurts knowing that you only are sleeping with me for the sake of pleasure. You want sex, but do you want me? I sure as hell want you. I didn’t realize that I was crushing on you until you let me into the Heathers. Hell, I didn’t even know I liked girls. You seemed to know that I liked the ladies before I did. I guess my feeling of affection for you has always been there, platonic or not. When you ditched me for Duke all those years ago, I still have never felt worse._

_Then, recently, I started to gain an ounce of hope that you liked me back, at least a little bit. I recall my first day in the Heathers, you walked with me to the library, so I assumed you were coming too, but then you whirled around and headed to chemistry, even though it was on the other side of the building. I wanted to believe that you wanted to spend more time with me. I hope you did, or maybe I’m just out of my mind. Cupid must’ve cursed me or something._

_When you did my makeup that night before the Remington party, every time you touched my face I felt all this electricity run through me. It was terrifying, quite frankly. Every time I looked at you that night, I was just overwhelmed with how fucking beautiful you were. You know that, though. You know you’re beautiful. And then you kissed me. It was so soft, but it was so brief. I barely remember the feeling. I just wanted to do it again, but then you said all those things to me. It broke me._

_I saw Wednesday and Lydia’s relationship develop, and I found myself longing for the intimacy they shared between one another. I couldn’t picture myself in a relationship like that with anyone but you. That night on your birthday, I just wanted to hold you. I got drunk off my head because I wanted to fill that empty hole, but only you could fill it. You saved me that night, but my mind told me there was no way you could possibly want to fix anything between us. I thought you hated me. I didn’t accept your hug the next day, because your cherry earrings brought back all those memories. Those memories which left me all these trust issues._

_When you came to me that night in the pouring rain, your clothes soaked through and your hair dripping, I just wanted to cuddle you by the fire and keep you warm. When you came clean and told me the truth about why you were there, my heart sunk. Part of me was so bitter because you had evidently projected your internalized homophobia onto me, but then I understood that feeling of denial. It’s so hard to be honest with yourself. I was so proud of you for opening up. I wanted to tell you that. I wanted to hold your hand and tell you how proud I was. I am so proud of you._

_I want to continue to be able to touch you and kiss you and strip you down, but eventually, you will need to know the truth. I have so many feelings for you, it drives me fucking nuts. The things you do to me... I won’t be able to pretend for much longer, or else I might burst._

_God, that felt good to write._

_Yours sincerely_

“It’s a letter to Heather, not the President,” Veronica said to herself, crossing out the last line.

~~_Yours sincerely_ ~~

_\- Veronica, x_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyyy u should comment

**Author's Note:**

> follow my tumblr @thebigartiste ! 
> 
> you can send me prompts, requests & you can make sure you know when i’m next updating (a.k.a, you’ll know if i’m going through a writers block period or an episode and won’t be able to write in either of those times!)


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